


The Untold Secrets of Desert Stars

by surprisinglyOK



Category: Dirk Gently - Douglas Adams, Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Bisexuality, Canon Continuation, Case Fic, Comedy, Dirk is extremely gay, Douglas Adams, Family, Farah despairs at them both, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Mutual Pining, Mystery, Paranoia, Romance, Social Ostracisation, Superstition, The Salmon of Doubt - Freeform, Todd is horny, Witch Hunts, historical events, i love these idiots, mention of Farah Black/Tina Tevetino but not enough for a tag of their own, slow-burn, vaguely Night Vale-ish?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-06-14 10:22:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 36,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15386679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/surprisinglyOK/pseuds/surprisinglyOK
Summary: When a prospective client turns up at the Agency with the front half of a perfectly happy Siamese cat, matters have to be taken into Dirk and Todd’s entirely (in)capable hands. Over a thousand miles away, in a dusty town in New Mexico, a woman has disappeared without a trace, and the residents live in fear of falling prey to a monstrous witch who haunts their desert home. But nothing here is quite what it seems.





	1. Slow-Moving Cat Monster

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys, and welcome to my (first) Big Bang offering! Please check out the [art for this fic](https://solomandr.tumblr.com/post/176153435172/my-art-for-holisticdirkmuppet-s-dghdabigbang) by my wonderful artist solomandr, because it’s honestly gorgeous and I’m embarrassingly excited about it. Thank you for being such a fab partner! <3
> 
> Featuring questionable road trip music, government conspiracies and bizarre, disembodied cats, this is a case- and character-driven continuation of Douglas Adams’ unfinished book, The Salmon of Doubt, and a study in small-town superstition, paranoia, and the painful, complicated nature of familial relationships. Oh, and two useless idiots falling in love whilst wandering around in the desert trying to find the arse-end of a cat.
> 
> Warnings: brief descriptions of torture/violence/electrocution (in flashback form), trauma/PTSD, general themes of racial/cultural oppression, mild alcohol consumption and smoking, brief references to cannabis use, swearing, mild sex references (but no explicit sex), divorce/estrangement, guns/knives (no injury), mild threat, one scene with some good old pararibulitis blood/gore (obvs hallucinatory). Rated T, just in case.
> 
> Specific chapter warnings will be in the notes. Comments and kudos sustain me.
> 
> Find me on tumblr at [holisticdirkmuppet](https://holisticdirkmuppet.tumblr.com/), and my awesome artist at [solomandr](https://solomandr.tumblr.com/). Happy Bang!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency has a new client. It’s half a cat. La historia comienza.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friendos, and welcome to Chapter 1! No specific warnings here, just a couple of absolute losers trying to retain their single shred of professional integrity. Todd is bi af.

When Todd is jerked rudely from sleep by a tinny, caterwauling rendition of a Red Hot Chili Peppers song coming from somewhere between the folds of his bedsheets, his first assumption is that he’s under attack from the hounds of Hell themselves. Fumbling for his cell phone, he inexplicably finds it inside an open bag of potato chips.

He accepts the call.

‘Ngh.’

‘Where the hell are you?’ Farah hisses down the phone, and Todd flops back down onto his pillow, squeezing his eyes closed at the promise of daylight seeping through the curtains.

‘I was sleeping, Farah.’

‘Do you have any idea what time it is?’

Todd pulls back to squint at the glare of his phone screen, and feels his stomach jolt at the realisation that it’s already past midday.

‘Fuck.’

‘Yeah! Yep! “Fuck!” I’ve been calling Dirk for the past half-hour and it just goes straight to voicemail. How the _hell_ do you two expect to run a business when-’

‘Okay, okay, I feel sufficiently berated. I’ll be there in like an hour.’

‘We’re meeting the client in ten minutes.’

Todd sits up so fast he considers it a wonder that he isn’t catapulted into another dimension.

‘The… shit.’

‘Go grab Dirk, and get over here right now.’

Farah hangs up with a firm and decisive _beep_ , leaving Todd scrambling out of bed and creaking, muttering and sleep-clumsy, across the floorboards and out of his apartment door.

‘Stupid, stupid, stupid…’

A scattering of chips patter across the floor behind him as he wishes, not for the first time, that both he and Dirk weren’t so utterly, incurably useless.

Todd rushes up the stairs and along the corridor to Dirk’s apartment, bare feet cold against the concrete, before hammering on the door.

‘Dirk! Dirk, get up!’

It takes a good minute before Dirk appears, wearing a pair of pyjamas and a disgruntled expression, and squinting disgustedly at the daylight as if it’s personally offended him. His hair is sticking up in all manner of odd directions.

‘Farah’s been trying to call you,’ Todd tells him. ‘We’re late.’

‘Good morning to you, too, Todd.’

‘It’s not morning. And we’ve got a client.’

Dirk visibly brightens.

‘A _client!_ ’ he repeats. Todd merely shrugs in the face of his breathless excitement.

‘Get dressed, we have to go.’

Todd is already padding back down the stairs to his own apartment when he hears Dirk call out to him.

‘Do you think I’ve got time to make a pot of tea?’

‘Absolutely not.’

Todd commences a brief but vigorous brush of his teeth, and begins the daily rummage around the chaos that is his bedroom to find a clean shirt.

It’s not like he and Dirk aren’t of any use. Dirk is, of course, the driving force behind the agency, without whom the business would never have been possible in the first place, and he consistently reminds Todd that he himself is also a vital cog in their unconventional machine when it comes to solving cases and occasionally saving Dirk’s neck. However, Todd is fairly impressed at this point by the fact that Farah hasn’t taken it upon herself to throttle them both and solve the mysteries of the universe on her own.

He’s finally struggled into a pair of worn-out jeans and is elbow-deep in the laundry basket when Dirk trips over himself into Todd’s bedroom, flustered and smelling faintly of the expensive aftershave that he reserves for client encounters. He’s wearing his latest favourite jacket-and-tie combination – purple leather and bees – and shamelessly eating from a box of muesli that Todd knows for a fact came from his own kitchen cupboard.

Todd manages to locate and change into a passably clean shirt, since he can’t find the sweater he wanted to wear, before Dirk trails him back out of his apartment and they hurry down the stairs side-by-side and out into the cool, September air.

‘Why do we have to work on a Saturday, anyway?’ Dirk grumbles, falling into step.

‘It’s Wednesday.’

As they tread down the sidewalk, Todd pulls his jacket tighter around himself against the light wind and half-listens to Dirk’s rambling nonsense. It’s a bright but chilly afternoon, the leaves just beginning to set themselves aflame with the ochre hue of autumn, the sun soft with a pleasant, comforting glow. He feels most at home during the autumn months. Its valiant attempt at burnt umber warmth, laced with chilling winds, is where he finds the most comfort, his happy alternative to Amanda’s bubblegum spring, Farah’s coldly methodical winter, and Dirk’s dazzling, heady summer smile.

‘…Just because he said he didn’t _want_ to make another trip, not that that should matter, anyway…’ Dirk continues as Todd rounds the next corner and ushers him through the forest green door of the detective agency, the bell tinkling above them to announce their presence.

‘…So, of course I told him, “Sir, considering that it is actually your _job_ to make me the kind of tea that I want and not the dirty dishwater that you seem to think is adequate-”’

‘Dirk,’ Todd interrupts, and Dirk talks himself to a halt, blinking around at the soft, yellow walls of the agency reception as if he has no idea how they got there which, of course, he probably doesn’t.

‘Right,’ he nods nervously.

‘You first,’ Todd offers, and Dirk gives him a maniacal smile that is clearly supposed to be charming and chivalrous and lands roughly in the vicinity of neither.

‘Oh, after you, I insist!’

Todd sighs.

‘Together?’

‘Alright,’ Dirk begrudgingly agrees, ‘together. Head held high, Todd, and we express gratitude, not apology. A client is merely a business prospect. _We_ are the ones in charge.’

Before Todd can voice his reservations, Dirk is leading him firmly by the upper arm through the door and into the office, where there is a stunningly beautiful woman standing in wait and holding a cat carrier in one hand. Loose, blonde curls frame her face, and she’s impeccably dressed in a suit which, honestly, kind of makes Todd want to die on the spot. Behind her desk is Farah, arms folded and wearing a thunderous expression. Todd tries not to look too sheepish as he traipses in.

Dirk sweeps towards the woman with enviable grace, oozing the kind of false confidence that Todd can only marvel at.

‘Good morning, Madam, and thank you so much for waiting. My name is-’

‘Mr Gently,’ she greets him crisply. ‘Was this appointment that you organised inconvenient for you?’

Dirk opens his mouth, and then closes it again. Todd elects to put him out of his misery.

‘Uh. Well, we’re, uh, super busy at the agency-’

Dirk nods quickly. ‘Yes! We… had to meet another client this morning, _really_ couldn’t be helped-’

‘Your shoes are on the wrong feet,’ the client points out.

‘Oh,’ Dirk blinks down at his feet in surprise. ‘I was wondering why they were so uncomfortable.’

‘Melinda,’ Farah interjects, her voice calmly spoken through gritted teeth, ‘this is Dirk and Todd. Dirk, Todd, this is Melinda Credula.’

‘Nice to meet you,’ Todd offers, and Melinda fixes him with a look that leaves Todd unsure if he’s terrified, turned on, or both.

‘Melinda has something she would like our help with,’ Farah prompts, and Dirk jumps back into action.

‘Right. We’re all ears. Not literally, though. That would be a bit weird.’

‘It’s about my cat,’ Melinda stoically addresses Farah and Farah only. ‘He’s… sort of… missing.’

Todd frowns minutely. After soul-swapping cultists, an entire fantasy dream-world and, yes, aliens, escaped pets seem as far away from their usual area of expertise as Dirk is from the status of functional human being.

Dirk shoots Todd a glare.

‘You forced me out of bed for a _lost cat?_ ’

‘Hey, I didn’t know it was-’

Dirk cuts him off before he can protest, speaking directly to Melinda with the kind of loftiness that can only be achieved by someone with absolutely zero reason for their apparent sense of superiority.

‘Ms Credula, I’m afraid you have been _grossly_ misguided. We at Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency are experts in the field of the bizarre, the unbelievable and the supernatural, with _extremely_ high-profile clients, including the late millionaire Patrick Spring, and we do not sully ourselves with the, frankly, dull mundanity of lost pets. In fact, I find the idea quite insulting. You’d do far better to get in touch with a local animal shelter, or even-’

‘You didn’t let me finish.’

‘Okay, Dirk, could you just pipe down for a second?’ Farah asks firmly, and promptly cuts him again off the second he opens his mouth to protest. ‘Melinda, tell us a little more about your cat. Can you give us a description?’

Melinda folds her arms.

‘Uh. That’s pretty hard.’

‘You don’t know what it looks like? Ginger, tabby…?’

‘Oh. He’s a male Siamese, around thirteen years old. He answers to the name of “Gusty”.’

Todd catches Dirk’s eye, and they both have to look quickly away again so as not to betray matching grins.

‘“…Gusty”?’ Farah repeats with practised politeness.

‘Short for “Gusty Winds”.’

‘When did you last see him?’ Todd asks. Melinda slightly lifts the cat carrier she is still clutching in one hand.

‘About five seconds ago. He’s right here.’

There’s a short, pregnant pause. Predictably, Dirk is the one who breaks it.

‘Did you not _just say_ -’

‘I said he was _“sort of”_ missing.’

‘Why don’t you show us what you mean?’ suggests Farah. Melinda dutifully deposits the cat carrier on Farah’s desk, pops open the clips on top, and reaches inside to lift out a disgruntled looking, coffee-coloured cat. A cat which, to all intents and purposes, is only in possession of a front half.

The fur on Gusty’s face is a soft, dark brown, typical of a Siamese, and frames startlingly blue eyes before bleeding out into the faded, foggy grey of his body. His meow of displeasure at being hauled bodily out of his carrier and planted beside it on the table betrays no evidence of discomfort or pain. This is despite the fact that, halfway down his body, behind the protrusion of his skinny front legs, there is… nothing. He simply stops. Even more strange, however, is that it quickly becomes clear to Todd that Gusty simply does not care. He parades around the perimeter of Farah’s desk with ease, yowling in protest at the undignified situation he apparently feels placed in, in exactly the same way he would if he were possession of the number of legs a cat is supposed to have, rather than the visible two.

Todd stares.

‘He’s not invisible,’ Melinda tells them matter-of-factly. ‘His back half just doesn’t exist.’ She waves a hand behind the cat’s midriff, demonstrating. ‘See? We adopted him a couple weeks ago from some guy in New Mexico who needed him rehomed. He looked like a totally normal cat. And then, during the first few days, we noticed his tail was shorter. We thought maybe he’d caught himself in a fence or gotten in a fight with another cat and lost it, but the vet couldn’t find any evidence of injury. It just… wasn’t there. He’s perfectly healthy. He doesn’t even seem to realise anything’s wrong. Every day there’s just… a little less of him.’

It’s so quiet, Todd is sure he could hear the proverbial pin drop. Even Dirk, for probably the first time in his life, is silent.

Todd sneaks a glance at him, and is unsurprised to see his eyes lit up with intrigue.

‘I’ll take the case,’ Dirk eventually blurts. Todd blinks at him.

‘You will?’

‘Yes. It turns out this whole affair is rather more bizarre than I had initially anticipated.’

Todd turns to Melinda by way of explanation. ‘That is our specialty.’

‘We’d like to do business with you,’ Dirk addresses her formally, and she meets his gaze with an unimpressed eyebrow. ‘We will get… the back end of your cat back, for a fee which I can assure you will be astronomical.’

‘Good thing I earn an astronomical amount of money.’

Farah hastily interjects. ‘We can discuss sensible billing arrangements in the coming week, before anything is finalised.’

‘Thank god,’ Melinda mutters drily.

‘Ms Credula,’ Dirk continues, ‘would you mind greatly if we were to keep hold of Gusty for the next few days? It’s highly possible that, when we find the back end, we may have to… reattach it to the front.’

‘Sure,’ she shrugs. ‘I guess. But he needs brushing twice a day, and only eats organic cat food.’

Todd makes a face that he hopes no one sees.

‘I’m sure we’ll all get along just fine,’ Dirk assures her. ‘Well, if you could just leave us your contact details, Ms Credula, we’ll get started right away.’

Farah pushes her open notebook and pen across her desk towards Melinda, and begins her usual illustration of the finer points involved in engaging their services, while Melinda obligingly jots down her details. After two solid years of running a vaguely successful business, Farah’s role as the-super-organised-one-who-actually-knows-what-she’s-doing has well and truly crystallised.

‘So, it’s important to remember when engaging with us that we have a somewhat unconventional approach, based on the practice of holism and the interconnectedness of all things, which means it can be a little difficult to pin down exactly what our responsibilities and billing figures will be. However, we aim to have a contract prepared for around halfway through the relevant investigation specifying our predicted fees, disbursements and timescale for case completion, but this will be subject to a variation clause in the event of any  _Force Majeure_  or reasonably unpredictable or unforeseeable circumstances...’

Todd’s mind drifts away from Farah’s voice and over to Dirk, standing tall and proud in his ridiculous purple jacket and bouncing on the balls of his feet. He gives Todd an enthusiastic double thumbs-up and a smile so bright that Todd almost forgets just how perplexing this afternoon is becoming.

Todd’s brain cranks back into gear in time to hear Farah rounding off.

‘…We’ll periodically update you on the progress of the case, but if you need anything, please don’t hesitate to contact us. I’m going to be away for most of this week, but if there’s an emergency you can call me on my cell phone. That goes for all of you.’

Farah shoots them a look, and Todd feels his heart sink in his chest. Apparently, even as long as a year after Farah and Tina started dating, he’s still completely incapable of remembering when she tells him she’s going to be out of town visiting in Bergsberg.

Melinda is wearing a look reminiscent of a dog sucking on a lemon, presumably in response to the bombshell that she will soon be losing the only competent person in the agency, and being left with the idiots.

‘Thanks, Farah,’ she nods, before turning to throw a cursory glance towards Dirk and Todd, the latter of whom swallows thickly at the raw, erotic power of her disdain. ‘And… you guys.’

‘You’re very welcome!’ Dirk replies sunnily.

Before he can so much as think the phrase ‘impulse control’, Todd is lunging forward to open the door for Melinda as she leaves. Her expression of derision is not dissimilar to the one worn by her cat.

‘We’ll do everything we can for you, Melinda,’ Todd promises. ‘Don’t worry.’

She sizes him up, visibly unimpressed.

‘My husband’s a marine.’

Todd has never felt more bisexual in his entire life.

Melinda parades out of the room before Todd’s mouth is working again, and his gaze comes to rest on Farah, whose lips are pursed in what looks like a combination of disapproval and second-hand embarrassment.

As soon as the door has swung closed behind Melinda’s swishing blonde hair, Dirk has bounded over to Todd and is punching him repeatedly in the arm with excitement.

‘Dirk-’ Todd says heavily, as Dirk chants an enthusiastic litany of, ‘Case! Case! Case! Case! Case!’

Farah moves towards the two of them, arms tightly folded to her chest in thinly veiled irritation.

‘Do I even need to say how totally unprofessional-’

‘No,’ Todd replies.

‘Farah, this is far too exciting for us to be worried about professionalism!’ Dirk ceases his assault on Todd and rolls his eyes at her. ‘We’ve got our very own half-a-cat!’

‘Yeah, and I don’t know why the hell she trusted you with it. Do  _not_  let anything happen to that thing.’

‘Oh, I’m extremely good at not losing cats,’ Dirk assures her. A memory flashes, unbidden, into Todd’s mind: the two of them sitting side-by-side on a pair of rocks in the middle of the woods during the Patrick Spring case, moments before they realised that the ferocious, deadly kitten-shark under their care was nowhere to be seen. He chooses not to mention this to Farah.

‘What do you think happened to the cat, then?’ he asks instead. ‘It’s literally, like… half not there.’

Farah shrugs. ‘I don’t know. It’s like some kind of weird, physical manifestation of Schrödinger’s Cat.’

Dirk blinks, uncomprehending. Beside him, Gusty _whumpfs_ himself down from Farah’s desk and onto the floor, sniffing delicately at her chair leg.

‘Whodinger’s what?’

‘It’s a thought experiment in theoretical physics,’ she explains patiently. ‘If you put a cat in a sealed box with a flask of poison inside and a mechanism that may or may not break the flask and kill the cat, you have no way of knowing whether it’s dead or alive. Schrödinger posed it as a criticism of a certain interpretation of quantum mechanics which would imply that the cat was both dead  _and_  alive at the same time, when, in reality, it could only be dead  _or_  alive.’

‘Well, he’s quite clearly alive,’ Dirk points out. ‘He’s just sort of... fading into non-existence?’ Dirk bends down as Gusty weaves around his shins, and gives him a gentle pat on the head. ‘I sometimes feel like that, too, Gusty.’

Todd raises an eyebrow. ‘So, what, it’s a feline metaphor for dissociation?’ he asks drily.

‘No, Todd, he’s stuck between existing and not existing, keep up.’

‘How can something both exist and not exist? It’s a paradox. Schrödinger literally used the experiment to show that a concept was impossible.’

‘Well, maybe he’s trapped halfway between two different dimensions,’ Dirk suggests. ‘Or _maybe_ he’s being gradually and painlessly devoured by an incredibly slow-moving cat monster!’

‘Guys,’ Farah interrupts, ‘I really need to get everything sorted for my trip. Can we regroup later this afternoon?’

‘Of course, Farah!’ Dirk beams. ‘You go off and get ready, and Todd and I will decide what to do next.’

Farah tugs her jacket from where it’s hanging over the back of her chair, and shrugs it on before grabbing her car keys off the desk.

‘I’ll have my phone on, okay? I’ll see you in a couple hours.’

‘See you,’ Todd mutters.

By the time Farah has shut the office door behind her and taken off back to her apartment, Dirk has planted himself on the floor beside the snooty-looking cat and is making kissy noises at it, holding out the back of his hand. Gusty sniffs at his knuckles before deigning to rub the side of his jaw against them.

‘Hello there, darling,’ Dirk murmurs. ‘Gosh, you’re a beautiful thing!’

An intense feeling that Todd can’t quite put a name to settles oddly in his chest, a feeling which he can only assume is brought on by the sudden appearance of a dependant in his life. He watches Dirk delicately stroke the soft fur on Gusty’s head with a strange kind of unease, feeling a little like a new parent being left alone with the baby for the first time. He’s not entirely sure whether the baby in this scenario is Gusty or Dirk.

Yes. That must be the reason for it.

The cat’s body hovers disconcertingly, balanced on its precarious front legs in complete defiance of the usual laws of physics.

‘Is it hungry?’ Todd asks uncertainly. ‘Should we… feed it Farah’s sandwich, or something? Dirk?’

Dirk, clearly paying absolutely no attention to Todd whatsoever, continues petting Gusty and talking pleasantly to him.

‘You’ll never believe this, but we once met a relative of yours whose soul had been swapped with a hammerhead shark’s. I mean, you probably don’t have any idea what a shark is, so that most likely doesn’t mean a lot to you. But she was actually very sweet until she exploded in mid-air and started ripping people in half.’

‘Dirk?’ Todd repeats impatiently. ‘Any bright ideas?’

‘Oh,’ Dirk blinks up at Todd as if brought suddenly back to reality. ‘Right. Yes. Well, I suppose, when faced with a missing cat, whether in whole or in part, the natural response would be to go out and look for it.’

Todd raises one eyebrow.

‘For the cat’s ass?’

Dirk shrugs, unperturbed. ‘Well, what is it we normally do when we don’t know where to start?’

‘Go out and walk around to see where the universe takes you, I guess.’

Dirk’s eyes light up with sudden excitement that Todd really, really doesn’t like the look of. A grin slowly spreads across his face.

‘Todd,’ he announces. ‘We’re going to need a harness.’


	2. Tall, Blonde And Female

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dirk has a Very Good Idea. Despite her better judgement, Farah accedes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for the idiots to be left to their own devices! Warnings in this chapter are for a brief flashback involving torture and violence in the form of electrocution. It’s short and non-graphic, but please skip over the last couple of paragraphs if that’s not your jam.

By all accounts, when Todd had been forcibly removed from his bed only a few hours earlier, he hadn’t expected his Wednesday afternoon to be quite so humiliating.

Dirk, marching down the street beside him, seems irritatingly unfazed by the strange looks the general public of Seattle are shooting them, and it annoys Todd greatly. Hands shoved roughly in his jacket pockets, he grumbles with every step.

‘Do you have any idea how ridiculous you look right now?’

Dirk scoffs. ‘Todd, I think you’re forgetting how I make my living.’

‘You _don’t_ make a living.’

‘I make at least part of one!’

Gusty trots surprisingly contentedly along the sidewalk, a bright pink harness fastened around his chest, as Dirk, holding the other end of an equally garish, pink leash, allows himself to be led to wherever the universe wants him to be, as decided by the front half of a cat. Todd is less than impressed.

A scattering of scratches sting across the back of his hand. It’s not exactly easy trying to fold an extremely feisty cat into a harness, assisted only by a man whose chosen response to hissing is to hiss back.

‘I can’t believe you dragged me into this,’ Todd mutters. ‘How the hell are we gonna solve a case by taking half a cat for a walk?’

‘What do you have against cats, Todd?’

‘I’m more of a dog person, to be honest. And I prefer my pets to still have the majority of their limbs.’

Dirk glares at him offendedly, and immediately addresses the cat.

‘He doesn’t mean it, Gusty. Honestly, Todd, you’re okay with following the cold, unforgiving, potentially sentient force of the universe, but not with following a cat on a lead? You need to get your priorities straight.’

‘ _I’m_ the one who…? Okay, you know what, forget it. Just do whatever you want with the cat. I have no interest in it.’

‘You have an interest in _Melinda_ , though,’ Dirk points out, and there’s an almost indecipherable edge to his voice that Todd is rarely on the other end of, a kind of irascibility that takes him by surprise. He raises his eyebrows.

‘What are you talking about?’

Dirk rolls his eyes, his mouth pursed in a disapproving pout, and Todd can’t for the life of him understand why.

‘Put a beautiful woman in front of you and you can damn nigh help yourself, can you?’

‘Jealousy doesn’t suit you, Dirk,’ Todd teases, and Dirk shoots him a haughty look in response.

‘Don’t be ludicrous. Tall, blonde and female couldn’t possibly be further from my type.’

‘That’s not what I-’

Todd trails off as Dirk comes to a sudden halt. Gusty has slowed in his pompous marching to poke his nose inquisitively around the bottom of a bus shelter. Dirk stares down at him.

‘A bus stop?’ he muses. ‘Um… Gusty? Is there something special about this bus stop?’

‘Maybe it smells interesting?’

A flash of inspiration passes through Dirk’s eyes as he excitedly opens his mouth to respond. Anticipating exactly what he’s thinking, Todd cuts him off with a warning before he can say a single word.

‘ _Don’t_ sniff it.’

Dirk looks disappointed.

‘Dirk, it’s a cat. It probably just wants to piss on it.’

Dirk shakes his head adamantly. ‘No, no, he brought us here! Todd, it must be an _important bus stop!_ Either that or he wants us to catch a bus somewhere, I suppose.’

Todd watches doubtfully as Gusty sniffs at the enormous, backlit advertisement displaying an oversaturated desert landscape. It seems unlikely that the cat would be urging them to get on the next bus, but Todd has learned over the years to trust Dirk’s hunches no matter how ridiculous they may seem.

Without warning, Dirk suddenly grabs Todd’s arm, the wonder of an epiphany bright in his face. Todd almost jumps out of his skin.

‘Jesus-’

‘Todd! It’s not the bus shelter! It’s the _advert!_ New Mexico!’

Confused, Todd looks back at the advertisement board, and notices for the first time the text that loops through the sky above the sand dunes: “ _Visit New Mexico”_.

‘What?’ Todd frowns. ‘You think that’s where we need to go?’

‘It makes sense, doesn’t it?!’ Dirk enthuses, and Todd doesn’t have the heart to tell him that no, it doesn’t. ‘Melinda said that she got Gusty from someone in New Mexico, somebody who put him up for adoption! Gusty must want to go home!’

‘Dirk, you know it’s Melinda’s cat now, right? It doesn’t get a say in where its home is. We’re not stealing a client’s pet and smuggling it out of state.’

‘It’s not _stealing_ ,’ Dirk argues. ‘We’re not just going to _leave_ him there. This is just the next phase of the case! It’s where we’re meant to be, Todd!’

Todd hesitates, trepidatious to say the least. Honestly, travelling a thousand miles from home over one of the few weekends that Farah won’t be with them sounds like a terrible idea. It’s not as if they haven’t been left alone in the agency before, or even trapped in a fairytale dreamland with Farah stuck in the real world, and managed the fallout with varying levels of success. It is, however, the first time the two of them will have hopped on a plane together to find the ass-end of a Siamese in the middle of a desert.

Dirk is still looking at him expectantly. Todd sighs.

‘Are you sure?’

‘I’m never sure of anything,’ Dirk replies. ‘Come on, let’s go and find Farah!’

Dirk scoops up Gusty, who lets out an indignant _‘prrrrp!’_ at the audacity of it all, and takes off in the direction of Farah’s apartment. Without a second’s thought, a single moment of consideration, just like how it’s always been since that first week of meeting him, Todd follows.

***

Dirk is rapping on the door with such rapid incessance that he almost hits Farah directly in the face when she wrenches it open. Given the eye-watering speed of Farah’s reflexes, it’s a godsend that Dirk narrowly avoids punching her and receiving a broken nose in response.

Farah is holding a pair of jeans in one hand and wearing a look of annoyance mixed with bewilderment.

‘Hello!’ Dirk beams. ‘How’s packing going?’

‘Uh. Fine.’ Farah steps back to allow them inside. Todd gives her an apologetic look as he passes.

Farah’s apartment is, as usual, completely spotless. Plants in regimented pots colour the windowsills and surfaces, the couch and coffee table perfectly perpendicular to the TV. Several framed photographs hang side-by-side on the wall, the three of them smiling for the camera, arms around each other’s shoulders, on the day they officially opened the agency. Todd’s heart swells with affection.

Farah ushers them into her bedroom, which is, on the whole, a great deal less spotless than the rest of the apartment, clothes and toiletries strewn across the bed. Dirk is entirely unfazed.

‘Farah…’ he begins sweetly as she continues, with excruciating care, to pack her clothes into the open suitcase on the bed.

‘If this is about the rainbow curtains again,’ she warns, ‘the answer is still no.’

‘Dirk thinks we need to go to New Mexico,’ Todd explains.

‘With the cat,’ Dirk adds. Farah doesn’t even bother to look up from her folding.

‘No.’

‘But-’

‘Dirk,’ Farah finally meets his eyes, pointing a finger seriously at him, ‘you are not taking off to New Mexico with the client’s cat. You’re not taking off to New Mexico _period_ without me.’

‘What about _without_ the cat?’ Todd attempts a compromise. ‘I can go along as damage control, we’ll just need a couple plane tickets-’

Dirk frowns at him in indignance. ‘“Damage control”?’ he repeats, aghast. ‘Are you insinuating that I need some kind of _babysitter?_ ’

Todd begins ticking off the most recent examples of his ineptitude on his fingers. ‘Unintentionally started a war between two separate alien races, crashed your car _and_ mine, got stuck under the couch for four hours trying to reach a jelly bean-’

‘Well, nobody’s perfect, Todd!’ Dirk glares. ‘You’re being extremely unfair.’

‘Yeah? What if you crash another car and end up in the ER again?’

‘I only broke a rib.’

‘You broke _three_ ribs, and you’re not going alone.’

Dirk scoffs. ‘It may have escaped your notice, Todd, but I’ve actually been alone for the vast majority of my life.’

Todd stares at him in incredulity.

‘Yeah, sleeping in a dumpster!’

‘Fine,’ Dirk says airily. ‘You can come. But only because it would be nice to have the company. Which, incidentally, is another reason why I’d like to take the cat.’

‘Two plane tickets,’ Farah allows. ‘You can bill it under expenses. But the cat stays.’

‘Deal,’ Dirk agrees hastily.

Farah places her final few belongings neatly in her case before zipping it closed: a small medical kit, and a multi-purpose penknife that Todd got her for her last birthday.

‘Will Mona be okay left alone?’ she asks.

‘She’s a lamp right now,’ Todd shrugs. ‘She’ll be fine.’

‘She’ll be the finest of all of us in pretty much any situation, let’s be honest,’ Dirk adds. Farah appraises him before checking her watch.

‘Look, my cab will be outside. Do you guys think you could hold the fort between the two of you for the short, _short_ period of five days?’

‘Don’t you trust us, Farah?’ Dirk asks innocently.

‘I trust you to solve the case and sort everything out at the end, sure. But I do not trust you to both come out of it in one piece. Just... try to stay alive, please? And preferably not seriously maimed.’

‘You’re filling me with confidence,’ Todd tells her drily. Dirk gives her a pat on the shoulder.

‘Farah, we’ll be absolutely fine.’

‘You’d better be,’ Farah warns. Before Todd can offer his own reassurance, she has wrapped her arms around both his and Dirk’s shoulders and folded them into a hug. Todd brings up his arms to hold them close, this trio of ridiculous, chaotic, broken people who somehow work better together than anyone else Todd has met in his life, and is struck by how much love he feels for his weird little family.

Farah gives them one last squeeze and releases them all too soon, the lingering warmth of her arm around his shoulders and the smell of Dirk’s aftershave making Todd feel a little giddy. He steels a glance at Dirk, who is beaming like the sun itself, so bright that Todd almost feels the need to look away.

He and Dirk trail out of Farah’s apartment after her as she steps out into the hall, suitcase in tow, and waits for them to vacate so that she can triple-lock her door and start making her way down the stairs.

‘If you need anything, call me  _immediately_ ,’ she instructs, carrying the case effortlessly at her side. Todd raises his eyebrows at the suggestion that he wouldn’t do so in even the most minor of emergencies.

‘Farah, I’ve had you on speed dial for two years.’

‘Okay, okay. Dirk, don’t feed the cat gummy bears.’

Dirk pouts.

Todd follows the two of them outside and into the warmth of the September sun, where Farah’s black cab is parked imperiously on the curb.

‘Say hi to Tina for us,’ Todd reminds her. She exhales, steeling herself, and gives him a nod in response.

‘I’ll see you guys soon.’

‘Bye, Farah!’ Dirk waves cheerfully, making the corners of her lips quirk into a tight smile, before she turns and makes her way towards the taxi, from which the driver has emerged to meet her. Todd and Dirk stand and watch as she stubbornly ignores his attempts to help her lift her suitcase into the trunk.

Apparently sensing his anxiety, Dirk gives Todd an awkward pat on the shoulder.

‘Don’t you worry, Todd,’ he says comfortingly. ‘It’ll just be you and me against the world. What could possibly go wrong?’

***

_1997._

_Pain. Pain is all that there is, all that thuds, pounding, through her veins, setting her alight with fire and the metallic taste of blood from where she’s bitten through her lip, a reminder that she can still bleed, that she’s still human even though her body is aflame, her bones made of lightning. She struggles, but it’s no use; the electricity courses through her body in gasping waves and she is burning, burning alive, but she will not break, she will not bend to them, will not do what they want her to do and, oh, she always thought that it was she with the Midas touch, but it is them, these inhuman creatures, who destroy everything around her in the blink of an eye, who take her family and her home and her life and her dignity, everything but the fear, the fear and the pain, and the knowledge that she will not give them what they want, the one thing she can give them that will make them stop._

_So it doesn’t stop. It will never, ever stop._

_Catherine Prefect opens her mouth, and screams._


	3. Gusty Winds May Exist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dirk and Todd touch down in New Mexico, and fail at basically everything they try to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full disclosure: you will get more of the foreshadowing in this fic if you know some of the Spanish words that crop up here and there, although I can’t decide if the one in this chapter counts as foreshadowing or just a damn spoiler so for this reason I won’t put the translation here. There is some gun usage and mild threat at the end of this chapter, but no one gets hurt. Todd also struggles a little bit with berating himself over his own grumpiness, so there’s some self-flagellation going on.

By the time the plane touches down at Albuquerque International Sunport, it’s already after nine in the evening and the dusky sky is heavy under a sprawling blanket of indigo. Dirk, who had fallen asleep drooling against Todd’s shoulder within five minutes of take-off, is, as usual, unrelentingly chipper. After the three-hour flight from Seattle and the usual frustrating airport faff, Todd is rather more in need of a strong coffee and a warm bed. And also a bathroom.

The airport is a sandy-coloured, block-shaped building which reminds Todd of the Tetris game he used to play as a kid. They wander past baggage reclaim, Todd thankful in the knowledge that neither of them had had time to pack more than could fit in hand luggage.

‘Why is it called “Sunport”, do you think?’ Dirk muses as he adjusts the strap of the black sports bag that hangs across his shoulder. ‘Do they think that’s going to make it sound especially enticing, even though everybody already knows it’s somewhere one goes to catch planes and stand in queues getting pissed off just the same as any other airport?’

‘I dunno, Dirk,’ Todd replies, scanning the mass of signs overhead as they walk. ‘Is there a bathroom around here?’

‘Oh, we just passed one,’ Dirk comes to a halt. ‘Go on, I’ll take the bags and go and get us a rental.’

Todd raises his eyebrows in mild surprise at his offer of being somewhat useful, and obediently shrugs off his backpack. Dirk takes it with a grin.

‘I’ll meet you outside,’ Todd tells him, before sloping off the way they came to find the bathroom.

When he re-emerges, having taken his time washing his hands and relishing the last few moments of quiet before he’s inevitably plunged into case-related chaos, he heads straight out of the airport and into the cool evening air of the parking lot to find the car hire stands. Dirk, drenched in garish purple and a shit-eating grin, is standing expectantly in wait beside a huge, silver beast of a vehicle.

‘I got us a van!’ he announces proudly as soon as Todd is within earshot, jangling the set of keys in his hand. Todd blinks at him in wordless disbelief.

‘A… van? Why would we need a _van_ and not just a regular car?’

‘Hunch,’ Dirk shrugs, unperturbed. ‘Maybe we’ll have guests.’

Todd makes a face while Dirk circles the van to the driver’s side.

‘Come on, we can get a head start on tomorrow!’

‘No,’ Todd shakes his head immediately, ‘you’re not driving.’

‘But-’

‘No.’

‘Okay, _fine_ ,’ Dirk huffs. ‘I’ll drive tomorrow.’

‘We’ll see.’

Dirk moodily hands the keys to Todd, who clambers up into the driver’s seat and waits as Dirk gets in beside him, the belly of the van cavernous and empty behind them. He turns the key cautiously in the ignition and fiddles with the controls, testing the indicators and adjusting his rear-view, vaguely aware of Dirk unzipping the sports bag in his lap.

‘How are you doing, sweetheart?’ Dirk suddenly asks in a soft voice, and Todd almost snaps the rear-view mirror off its stem where he’s adjusting it. Did… did Dirk just…? Within a split second, Todd has turned to stare in dumbstruck shock at Dirk, who is speaking determinedly into his bag and gently lifting out…

Todd feels blood rush to the tips of his ears in a confusing mixture of embarrassment, annoyance, relief, and a hint of disappointment that Dirk clearly wasn’t addressing him. He puts the last observation firmly to the back of his mind before it can properly materialise into something he actually needs to think about.

Dirk happily scratches behind the ears of the wriggling, ruffled-looking cat, and Todd stares in bewilderment.

‘Is that…? Dirk, how the hell did you even get it on the plane? You do realise that Farah is going to literally destroy you?’

‘It was a hunch!’ Dirk protests, finally releasing Gusty so he can spring over the back of his seat and into the back of the van. ‘I can’t ignore the whims of the universe, Todd!’

‘Yeah, well, I hope I’m there to watch her rip you a new asshole.’

Dirk flashes him a grin. ‘Kinky.’

For the second time in the space of roughly thirty seconds, Todd feels the heat rise high in his cheeks with a feeling that he’s entirely unable to put a name to. Instead of responding, he concentrates on flicking on the headlights and pulling out of the parking lot.

After one or two failed attempts under Dirk’s direction, Todd manages to find the right exit onto the highway, taking them south from downtown Albuquerque and out towards the unknown. As the buildings and road traffic slowly peter out into the vast expanse of desert scrubland, Todd relaxes a little. The soothing hum of the engine under the palm of his hand where it rests on the wheel is a reminder of his old band days, of driving from state to state on tour, of sleeping in messy contortions with a sprawling mass of bodies in the back, of the feeling of total liberation inspired by driving at night. It has always calmed him, for as long as he can remember. He winds the window down at some point, letting the cool breeze flutter across his face, and Dirk opens his own window, too. The air smells like the warmth of the day, the ground around them scattered with agave plants and brickellbush that go on as far as the eye can see. Seemingly content with the direction that Todd is taking them, Dirk smiles over at him in a way that suggests he thinks Todd still hasn’t noticed him quietly putting on his Spice Girls CD half an hour before.

It’s funny, really. Two years on from the Lydia Spring case, and driving through the desert late at night with a ridiculous, hyperactive holistic detective and the front half of a cat at the beginning of a case that will almost definitely be completely insane is making Todd feel all kinds of calm.

That is, until, without warning, Dirk leans over to grab the steering wheel from him and shrieks, ‘ _Stop!_ ’ at the top of his lungs.

‘Dirk, what the hell?!’ Todd yelps once he’s slammed on the brakes, but Dirk is already scrambling out of the passenger’s seat and looking up at something at the side of the road in awe. Todd grumbles bad-temperedly out of the van and comes to stand at Dirk’s side, trying to see what it is that’s excited him to such a frankly dangerous extent.

Standing boldly at the side of the road is a large, diamond-shaped, yellow sign, which clearly reads, _“GUSTY WINDS MAY EXIST”_.

Todd stares at it, aghast.

‘Oh my god,’ he mutters. ‘It says…’

‘It’s connected, Todd,’ Dirk enthuses, eyes sparkling with excitement. ‘It has to be!’

‘You think this is a sign?’

Dirk gives him a funny look.

‘Well, it’s _obviously_ a sign, Todd.’

‘I don’t mean a _road_ sign,’ Todd rolls his eyes, ‘I mean a sign from the universe.’

‘Well, what else could it be? And I was right, see?! Gusty Winds _may exist!_ ’

‘What are you…? Right about what?’

Dirks huffs as if Todd is being especially stupid this evening, which Todd thinks is a little unfair given the fact that it’s almost eleven o’clock at night and he’s seriously in need of a rest. He can just about make out the dark, inviting shapes of buildings not too far along the road ahead, and can’t think of anything better than curling up in a warm bed.

‘That he’s caught between the states of existing and not existing. I told you that’s what it must be!’

‘Dirk, that sign could mean anything,’ Todd rationalises tiredly. ‘I mean, sure, it looks like that’s what it could mean, but it could also be… I mean…’

Todd trails off uncertainly, and doesn’t need to look at Dirk’s face to know that it’s infuriatingly smug.

‘Look,’ Todd tries instead. ‘Why don’t we get some sleep and come back to this tomorrow? I think I see a town up ahead. There might be a motel and somewhere we can get food.’

‘Alright,’ Dirk agrees as Todd climbs back into the driver’s seat. ‘Nourishment and rest. But I’m still right.’

‘Get in the van, Dirk.’

‘Bossy.’

Todd drives them on past the sign and towards the stout buildings ahead, the promise of a comfortable bed stirring hope in the pit of his stomach as they slowly materialise out of the darkness. A store sign glares orange as they drive slowly by. It quickly becomes clear that there is little else here but a handful of dusty houses along the roadside and, to Todd’s intense relief, a shabby-looking motel with a broken neon sign out front.

Todd slouches out of the van, backpack in tow, and waits for Dirk to slip his own bag across his chest before they make their way up the steps to the motel side-by-side.

‘Do you think they’ll do organic cat food in the little shop?’ Dirk wonders aloud as they step into the lobby. It’s dingy and dusty, the wallpaper peeling with such apathy that it seems to want to be there even less than they do, and there isn’t a soul in sight except for a lone concierge sitting behind the desk looking bored as all hell. It smells a little like drainage.

The concierge can’t be much older than her early twenties, with very short, violently blue hair, and a fed-up expression on her face. She barely flicks her eyes towards them as they approach the desk.

‘Welcome to Motel _Mirlo_ ,’ she intones. ‘How can I help you?’

Dirk enthusiastically sticks out his hand in greeting.

‘Hello!’ he beams. ‘I’m Dirk Gently, the universe’s darling, and this is my business partner, Todd Brotzman. Are you a local here?’

The concierge looks taken aback. She very slowly takes his hand and shakes it.

‘Uh. Yeah. I grew up in the next town.’

‘Excellent,’ Dirk shoots Todd a conspiratorial look before turning back to her and fixing her with one of his Intense Stares. Todd feels more than a little sorry for her. ‘Just quickly, I have a question I’d like to ask about a road sign we saw on the way here.’

The concierge shrugs.

‘Sure, okay. Shoot.’

Dirk places both hands on the desk in front of her and speaks intently. ‘Now, I’m not sure if you’ll have ever seen it, because there’s a chance it was meant especially for me in connection with a case I’m working on at the moment. I’m a detective, you see, and-’

‘Dirk,’ Todd interrupts. Dirk grimaces apologetically.

‘Sorry, yes. This particular, awfully strange road sign reads…’ he spreads his arms grandly with the proclamation, ‘“… _Gusty Winds May Exist_ ”. Now. Do you have any idea, any at all, what that could possibly mean?’

The concierge gives him an exceptionally odd look.

‘Uh,’ she says, ‘it… it means it’s windy?’

 _That_ throws Todd for a loop. Nothing case-related, nothing to do with cats, no mysterious appearance of evidence specifically for Dirk to see. Just… a sign.

It takes him a while to realise that he and Dirk have left a significant pause.

‘That’s it?’ he asks, and the concierge turns her weird look towards him.

‘Well, yeah. What else would it mean? There are signs like that all over.’

Dirk looks dumbfounded. It doesn’t escape Todd’s notice that the two of them have become so accustomed to weirdness that, ironically, it’s normality that now makes them most uncomfortable.

‘It… it’s just a regular road sign?’ Dirk confirms again.

‘Uh huh.’

‘Okay, let’s forget about the sign for now,’ Todd intervenes out of sympathy. ‘Do you have any rooms available for tonight?’

‘Sure. Double?’

For the third time in a confusingly short period, Todd feels his ears burn red.

‘Twin.’

‘Do you wanna pay now or in the morning?’

Todd barely registers her question. All at once, and before he can do anything to stop it, he notices that Dirk is wearing his best ‘innocent’ face, and realised far too late exactly what he’s about to say.

‘Do you happen to know, entirely hypothetically, where we could possibly buy some cat food around here?’

The concierge looks carefully at Dirk.

‘Do you… have a cat with you?’

Both Dirk and Todd answer with a simultaneously suspicious, ‘No.’

Dirk’s bag meows. Todd closes his eyes in silent defeat. _Fuck._

‘I’m afraid we don’t allow pets in here,’ the concierge informs them. ‘You’ll have to find somewhere else.’

‘Oh, come on, it’s not going to do any harm!’ Dirk protests. ‘It’s just a cat! And not even a _whole_ one!’

‘Dirk…’ Todd warns through clenched teeth, and Dirk hastily extrapolates.

‘Oh, it’s completely fine, don’t worry,’ he assures the concierge, who is starting to look a little like she’s fearing for her life. ‘We’re not crazy psycho people. Well, we might be a little bit crazy. But we definitely don’t travel around chopping up cats in our free time, is what I’m saying. This one just happened to come as a half.’

Before Todd can stop him, Dirk is reaching into his sports bag and pulling Gusty out into the musty air of the motel lobby, hand gripping him loosely beneath his front legs, and the stub where his midriff disappears into thin air dangles disconcertingly beneath.

‘See?’

The concierge, staring in horror at the cat, has turned such an unhealthy shade of white that Todd wonders if she’s about to pass out.

‘Get out,’ she tells them, quietly but firmly, and Todd hurriedly tries to backtrack.

‘Look, we’re really sorry,’ Todd can see Dirk nodding furiously out of the corner of his eye, and is just about ready to yell very loudly at him. ‘We just need a room for the night, we can leave the cat outside-’

The concierge doesn’t take her eyes off Gusty, wriggling as Dirk settles him gently back into the bag. She looks alarmingly ill, her face hardened with a combination of terror and what looks strangely like fury.

‘Sir, you have to leave, right now,’ she tells them, her trembling voice barely above a whisper. ‘You’re not welcome here.’

Todd is suddenly very aware that something isn’t right. This is more than an unsuspecting member of the public being freaked by something weird that they could later put down to a dream, more than fear of the unknown. It’s not the unknown at all – it’s _knowing_ , and knowing far more than he and Dirk do, and being terrified in response.

There’s an uncomfortable silence.

‘Right,’ Todd eventually replies. ‘Okay. Uh. Sorry about... all that. We’ll leave. Dirk?’

‘Yes, leaving!’ Dirk replies hurriedly, and Todd grabs him forcefully by the arm and drags him across the lobby.

‘Ow!’ he complains as Todd wrenches him out of the door and back into the night air. Todd rounds on him.

‘What the _hell_ , Dirk?!’

‘I was just trying to put her mind at rest!’

‘By showing her the front half of a cat? You cost us a goddamn bed! What are we gonna do now?’

Dirk ducks his head in acceptance. ‘I’m sorry, Todd. I didn’t think.’

‘You _never_ think,’ Todd snaps, and immediately hates himself for it. Apparently, he’s not done being pissed yet, despite Dirk’s genuine apology, despite how much he doesn’t want to be this person anymore. Dirk looks at the ground, contrite, and it’s Todd’s final cue for calming the fuck down.

‘That is one of my more significant character flaws, yes.’

Battling the weight of his own guilt, Todd lets out a heavy sigh and squeezes his eyes tightly shut. He gives himself a second to respond.

‘Come on, let’s try the store. We can grab some food and sleep in the van.’

Dirk falls into step beside him as they head for the store next door to the motel.

‘I knew this particular van was calling to me for a reason.’

‘It’s got to be better than sleeping in that Jeep in the woods, that’s for sure.’

A couple of years ago, before he met Dirk, Todd would never have taken responsibility for any of his mistakes, much less bothered to apologise for them. But that Todd is long gone now, and this Todd is trying his best to learn how to be a better person instead of writhing silently in his own self-disgust. He stops just outside the front door of the grocery store and turns to Dirk, who fixes him with a questioning look.

Todd takes a breath.

‘I’m sorry for yelling. It was uncalled for and I shouldn’t take my frustrations out on you.’

‘That’s quite alright, Todd,’ Dirk smiles in the warm, genuine way that reminds Todd how willing he is to accept and treasure even the smallest amount of respect after thirty-odd years of being shown next to none, and it makes something twist oddly in the pit of his stomach. ‘I’m sorry for assaulting that poor girl with a biology-defying, mutant cat on a deserted country road in the middle of the night.’

Todd snorts. ‘Apology accepted.’

Dirk’s eyes crinkle softly with the fond smile on his lips, and Todd is momentarily transfixed by the gentleness in his face, laid bare and childlike with the honesty of a man who has never hidden a single emotion in his entire life. He wishes, not for the first time, that he could be just a little more like Dirk.

Dirk turns away all too soon, and the moment dissipates with the sound of his feet stepping through the automatic doors of the store, Todd trailing after him. It’s blindingly bright inside, with only a couple of employees stacking shelves in the aisles. Todd picks up a basket and offers a polite nod to the burly man standing behind the checkout as they pass.

Todd throws a few bits and pieces into the basket while Dirk is off hunting for cat food – a jar of pre-cooked hot dogs, a loaf of bread, a handful of packets of chips – and locates a small section of the store displaying miscellaneous non-food items. Counting his lucky stars, Todd picks up a couple of thick, grey blankets from the top of the mismatched pile on the bottom shelf, relieved that they’ll at least have something to sleep under in the back of the van. There’s a plethora of colours that have been stuffed behind, presumably by some underpaid employee with no incentive to tidy them. After a moment’s hesitation, he rummages further through the stack, pulling out a bright, yellow blanket which almost matches the jacket Dirk had worn when he’d first broken into Todd’s apartment over two years before, and switches it out for one of the grey ones, smiling faintly.

Dirk returns carrying two huge bottles of water and a couple of cans of fish under one arm, prompting Todd to realise that he would have totally forgotten about water if Dirk hadn’t picked it up. He’s suddenly rather grateful that the two of them combined make up almost one fully-functioning adult who isn’t going to die of dehydration out in the fucking desert.

‘Do you think,’ Dirk ponders as he adds the cans to the basket, ‘that half a black cat crossing your path is only half as much bad luck as a whole one? Do you think cats even really have anything to do with luck? Maybe it’s just made-up nonsense, like how it’s supposed to be good luck to be shat on by a bird, when that whole concept is just bullshit superstition to make you feel better about being shat on by a bird.’

‘ _Most_ superstition is bullshit,’ Todd points out.

‘You can’t take anything for granted in our line of work, Todd. Gusty could bring a terrible, terrible cat-related curse upon us both.’

‘As long as it’s not rabies, I’m all good.’

They reach the checkouts, and Todd rests the basket on one end so they can begin unloading it onto the conveyor belt.

‘We didn’t actually get to spend a lot of time in the desert in Montana, did we?’ Dirk muses. ‘Bit disappointing, although the trips to Wendimoor probably made it worth it.’

‘What, you’re saying you would rather have been in the desert than a fairytale otherworld filled with literal magic?’ Todd asks wryly, and Dirk flashes him a grin.

‘Oh, Todd. When will you learn that it’s me who brings the magic to every situation?’

Todd hears the tell-tale click of a pistol being cocked behind him before he sees the cashier standing tall and still behind the checkout, training a gun at them both.

Dirk and Todd whip around in alarm to come face-to-face with the man’s hard stare, fury burning in his livid eyes and his gun flicking minutely between the two of them.

‘Put your hands above your head,’ he bites out, and the two of them immediately do as they’re told. Todd can feel the blood thumping, sick and sharp in his veins, his whole body hot with the adrenaline that’s screaming at him to flee.

‘No, no, no!’ Dirk babbles, arms raised almost comically straight in the air. ‘I haven’t done anything wrong! I don’t even know him!’

‘You shut your fucking mouth, _witch_ ,’ the man spits savagely, turning the gun from Todd to Dirk. Judging by the way Dirk’s eyebrows crease in bewilderment, his curious nature seems to win out over the terror.

‘“Witch”?’ he whispers in confusion.

‘Look, there’s been a mistake,’ Todd says hurriedly. ‘We’re not witches, I swear! Please, just put the gun down-’

The man takes a step forward and Dirk lets out a high-pitched squeak, Todd’s heart hammering so hard in his chest that he can barely breathe.

‘Your kind aren’t welcome here,’ he snarls, jabbing the gun with each word, and Dirk looks like he might pass out on the spot. ‘You better get the hell out of this town, or I swear to God-’

In the exact moment he takes another step, Gusty chooses to let out a muffled yowl from the depths of Dirk’s bag, still slung across his chest. The man’s gun lowers fractionally as he stares between the two of them in confusion.

‘What the-’

Todd doesn’t waste a single second.

‘ _Run!_ ’ he yells, grabbing hold of Dirk’s wrist and yanking him out of the store, only vaguely noticing him snatching the basket of now-stolen goods from the conveyor belt as they sprint out into the cool night air and towards the van, leaving the cashier’s booming shouts and the cracking of gunshots far behind.

***

Mandi finishes her shift at six o’clock in the morning, and is in the car by five past.

The sky is soft with the cool blues of dawn, the sleepy mutterings of birds beginning to stir into daytime symphonies, and she drives through the early morning stillness of the desert dust. She usually relishes the peace, loves the absolute quiet of morning before anybody else in her small hometown has stirred. But today it’s different. Today she can’t concentrate on the quiet when everything in her head is so loud.

They’d come out of the night to the motel, out of nowhere, the two shifty white guys, one short and one not-short. They’d asked stupid questions about road signs, and pulled out a freakish estimation of a Siamese cat, a cat missing the entire back half of its body, and yet, in defiance of both physics and biology, seeming not to care. She knows where she’s seen that before.

Her head is thumping dizzyingly, and her hands haven’t stopped shaking since the interaction hours before. It’s only as much as she can do to keep down the nausea that threatens to overwhelm her.

Mandi pulls up outside her house, exits her car and heads inside, tossing her keys on the kitchen counter and flicking on the kettle.

As she waits for the kettle to boil, she heads upstairs to her bedroom, to the framed photo of the smiling woman with the long, dark hair that rests on the bookcase. The two faces grin back at her, her own eyes bright with happiness, the other’s intelligent and soft and deep like they always were. She traces a finger softly, gently across the woman’s face, and wonders, again and again, how it came to this.

The kettle boils. She doesn’t hear it.


	4. Don't Count Your Eggs Before They Chicken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Todd has a Gay Moment. Dirk eats pancakes, and finds a clue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A second Lydia Spring-style missing woman? In my Dirk Gently universe? It’s more likely than you think. No content warnings here, other than for a scene where a character is smoking. Also Todd being kinda horny, but that’s nothing new.

Todd’s brain stumbles into consciousness to the feeling of something akin to wet sandpaper rasping against his heel. The sunlight streaming in is harsh at his eyelids, and he can already feel the slick sweat on his forehead and down his spine as the warmth of the new day permeates the van uncomfortably. He pushes back the blanket and glances towards the source of the oddly ticklish sensation, only to find a sleek Siamese cat, now clearly missing its front legs as well as the back ones, licking his exposed foot.

Todd yelps and flails, kicking out in surprise, and Gusty scurries off and out of the open door of the van, ears flat against his head. Todd sits up and grumpily rubs a hand down his face.

It takes him a moment to recognise his surroundings, and to remember that he’d spent an hour the night before driving as far out of the vicinity of some psycho with a gun as possible, before falling asleep in the back of a van in the desert somewhere south of Albuquerque, beside a disembodied cat, and his boss. Who is now nowhere to be seen. Just another totally normal day.

Groaning as his back cracks and complains, Todd hauls himself up from the van floor and wanders blearily towards the sunlight, dropping down barefoot into the dust outside. Gusty has seated himself nearby, and is brashly licking his genitals. Todd wrinkles his nose in distaste.

‘Dirk?’

‘Over here!’ replies the familiar voice. Todd trudges around the back of the van to find Dirk sitting cross-legged on the ground, scratching something into the dirt with a stick. Todd stops dead in his tracks.

Dirk is facing away from him, his back hunched beneath his crisp, white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to reveal his toned forearms, and Todd’s mouth goes dry.

It’s not as if he hasn’t seen his goddamn _arms_ before, for Christ’s sake. Patrick Spring’s terrifying death maze had had both of them stripping down to their underwear, and he’s never been able to forget Dirk’s pink-fluffy-jacket-and-gay-cowboy-tank-top look from the Sound of Nothing afterparty. Hell, Dirk wanders into Todd’s apartment having forgotten various items of clothing often enough that Todd has probably seen ninety percent of his body several times over. But, somehow, it’s different this time, like seeing him anew, and Todd can’t stop looking. It’s not like he hasn’t noticed before that Dirk is attractive, but… well. Maybe it’s just that he hasn’t let himself acknowledge it.

Todd clears his throat gruffly to announce his presence, and Dirk twists around to beam at him. At the sight of his collar enticingly unbuttoned, Todd almost has a heart attack.

‘Good morning, Todd. Did you sleep well?’

Todd keeps his eyes firmly trained on the ground in front of Dirk, where it has become clear that he is scratchily writing out, “Gusty Winds May Exist”. He has drawn a stick figure of a witch, complete with pointy hat and broomstick. If he weren’t trying so hard to think about something else, Todd would probably find it rather endearing.

‘What are you doing in the dirt?’ he mutters instead. Dirk looks down his handiwork.

‘Well, I’ve been thinking everything over, and I think witches might have a big part to play in all this. I mean, that crazy gunman in the shop accused me of witchcraft, and that concierge’s _face_ when I showed her the cat-’

‘I mean, it was a pretty unsurprising reaction for anyone to have, honestly.’

‘It was more than that,’ Dirk shakes his head. ‘Something was strange.’

Todd hesitates. He has to admit, he’d thought there was something odd about the interaction, too. If he could maybe stop having slight internal crises, he’d probably be able to think a lot more clearly about it.

He sighs.

‘Let’s please just go find coffee before we think about anything else. I need caffeine. And some real food.’

Dirk nods enthusiastically. ‘Excellent idea, Todd. Just let me feed me feed the cat, and we’ll be good to go!’

Dirk scrambles up from the ground and swans past Todd in the direction of the van, and Todd tries not to think about the faint scent of sweat on his skin. It makes him feel a little giddy.

 _That’s it_ , he decides. He’s absolutely, categorically, _not_ going to think about it. Surely that’s got to be the best solution. Because noticing that one’s friend is undeniably kind of attractive doesn’t mean a thing; it’s an observation, nothing more. And overthinking it is _not going to help_ , particularly when there are more important things to be getting on with. He just hasn’t dated in a while, and this is the first time he’s gone on a trip with someone since being on the run with Farah. It’s only natural. Right?

Todd squeezes his eyes tightly shut and presses his fists against them in frustration. This is the last fucking thing he needs.

Dirk reappears with one of the cans he’d picked up at the store before they’d taken off in a hurry, and sets about emptying its contents onto a napkin while Gusty weaves around his legs, crowing incessantly.

‘Okay, okay, just a second,’ he soothes, and Todd’s heart swells a little before he catches himself and sets a scowl determinedly on his face.

‘Dirk, is that salmon? You couldn’t have found something cheaper?’

Dirk sets down the napkin, having to retract his hand rather quickly as Gusty attacks it with vigour. ‘At least it’s not organic.’

‘That thing’s eating better than we are.’

‘“That thing” is vital to the investigation, Todd,’ Dirk tells him reproachfully. ‘A little respect wouldn’t go amiss. Oh my god, his front legs are gone.’

‘You only just noticed?’

‘I’ve been _busy_ , Todd.’

When the three of them have clambered back into the van, Todd once again staunchly refusing to give up his spot in the driver’s seat due to the very real fear that death or serious injury may occur if the driving is left in Dirk’s hands, Dirk seems set on travelling in the same direction they had come from the night before. Todd isn’t one to disagree with his methods when it comes to his particular brand of holistic navigation. He hits the gas, and swings them around to take them back towards the north. They spend most of the drive squabbling over what music to play. Todd wins with Pink Floyd; Dirk loses abysmally with Britney.

The sun is high in the dazzling sky by the time they finally reach somewhere more built-up, a collection of stocky buildings in mismatched, sandy colours nestled among telephone poles and yellowing desert brush. Todd slows the van a little as they both peer out of the windscreen towards the pale houses creeping steadily towards them. A road sign creaks apathetically at the side of the highway as they drive slowly into the town: “ _Welcome to Brujapuebo”_. It’s even shittier than Bergsberg.

‘Is this it?’ Todd asks.

Dirk turns to face him, wide-eyed with excitement. ‘I have absolutely no idea.’

Todd parks the van in the tiny lot next to a run-down Arby’s, and Dirk trails him excitedly inside, settling opposite him in a booth tucked away in one corner. Todd forces himself to focus very hard on the menu rather than looking at Dirk’s face, which he can see is already drawn into his Pensive Sleuthing Look even out of the corner of his eye.

‘Todd, do you know anything about the history of witchcraft in New Mexico?’

‘What do you want to eat?’

‘Did they do those test things on strange women here? Did there exist a highly corrupt and awful system of religious, racial and feminine oppression?’

Todd glowers at him before replying quietly and levelly. ‘There were witch hunts in New Mexico just like the ones in Salem, yeah. Can you please keep your voice down? The last thing we need in this place is more people who are suspicious of us.’

‘How _interesting_ ,’ Dirk breathes, wide-eyed, as Todd notices a middle-aged waitress with her hair tied up in a messy bun approach their booth.

‘Dirk.’

‘What can I get for you guys?’ the waitress asks, pen poised on her notepad. Dirk gives her a politely surprised smile.

‘Oh! I'll have the blueberry and cinnamon pancakes, please. And... a chocolate milkshake. Todd?’

‘Toast and a black coffee, please.’

‘White or brown?’ the waitress asks.

‘Brown’s fine.’

‘Coming right up.’ The waitress tears off the first page of her notebook and is in the process of turning away when Dirk squints at her curiously.

‘Have you, perchance, seen the back end of-’

‘ _Dirk!_ ’ Todd hisses.

‘…The… back… end of this man here?’ Dirk finishes unconvincingly, gesturing towards Todd with an innocent expression on his face. ‘It’s… really quite something.’

Silence falls like a rock while Todd fights the primal, embarrassed instinct to curl up on the ground and die. After an uncomfortably long pause, the waitress gives a polite but stiff nod.

‘I’ll be right back with your food.’

She hurries off towards the kitchen as if she can’t get away fast enough. Against all manner of good sense, Dirk looks rather proud of himself.

‘I think I managed to save that quite excellently. Anyway, I have an appointment with some soap and a new shirt. Back in a jiff!’

Before Todd can open his mouth, Dirk has extricated himself from the booth and wafted towards the bathroom, leaving Todd sitting bewilderedly in the beams of the unforgiving light of day. Groaning, he lets his head fall forwards onto the table and wonders how on earth he ever managed to end up here.

‘What the fuck?’ he asks into the table. It doesn’t reply.

Dirk re-emerges ten minutes later with damp hair and the smudges of dirt removed from his temple. Todd makes a mental note to at least put the stick of deodorant he left in the van to use before they get started on the day’s investigations, even if he isn’t able to shower. He wishes for the millionth time that they’d managed to bag a motel room.

The convergence of Dirk on the table is closely followed by their food, dropped off rather hastily by the waitress.

‘Oh, thank god,’ Dirk enthuses, digging in to his stack of pancakes with gusto. ‘I am positively _starving_.’

He’s known it for as many years as he’s been downing multiple shots of coffee a day: a caffeinated Todd is a much more pleasant and generally capable Todd, and this is why he drinks coffee that’s strong, bitter, and blacker than Satan’s charred asshole. A non-caffeinated Dirk has ten times more manic energy than Todd has ever had in his life, and this is why he doesn’t. Dirk talks animatedly across the table at Todd between mouthfuls of pancake as he reads snippets of text from his phone, and Todd eats his toast whilst silently cursing the universe and its mother over the fact that his companion’s concept of “quiet” is entirely different to that of the rest of the world.

‘Ooh!’ Dirk flaps excitedly. ‘And another thing! It’s established folklore that witches can turn into owls and _cats!_ What if Gusty-’

‘Dirk, could you please shut up about the weird shit for five seconds?’ Todd mutters. ‘If we get thrown out of here before I finish my coffee there’s gonna be hell to pay.’

‘But the universe-’

‘The universe can wait for you to fuel yourself for a goddamm half-hour.’

‘Fine,’ Dirk replies sulkily. He silently goes back to eating his pancakes, all the while trying and failing to make it look like he’s no longer surfing the internet on his phone. Todd takes a sip of his coffee, relishing the peace and quiet and feeling the comforting bitterness warming his stomach. It lasts for all of thirty seconds before Dirk is talking again.

‘But what about if the cat is a witch’s _familiar?_ ’

‘Jesus Christ,’ Todd sets his cup back down on the table with more force than perhaps necessary.

‘He’s relevant, too. Catholic priests who lived here during the 1800s would equate native religions with devil worship and find them guilty of witchcraft. Another prime example of white people ruining everything, if you ask me.’

‘Devil worship?’ Todd frowns despite himself. Dirk’s face is alight with fascination as he scans his phone screen, leaning in towards Todd so he can speak in a low, beguiling voice.

‘Yes. Catholics would treat denial of the existence of the devil as proof of guilt. But the native people just didn’t have any concept of “the devil”, and didn’t believe in the idea of “good” and “evil”. They believed in – and get this – _the interconnectedness of all things_.’

‘Wait, what? You mean-’

Dirk is almost vibrating in his seat. ‘It would be such a waste not to say, “everything is connected,” when everything is connected _to the fact_ that everything is connected.’

‘Dirk, do you think this has something to do with the holistic… stuff?’ Todd asks quietly.

‘It’s highly possible. I mean, the theories are endless.’

‘They are?’

Dirk claps his hands together with barely contained enthusiasm. ‘Uncommonly specific _cat_ hypnotists?’

Todd stares. ‘No.’

‘Todd, you are so quick to disparage. It could be _literally_ anything!’

‘So, your theory is that it’s Lydia Spring again?’

‘ _No_ ,’ Dirk harrumphs, ‘but it’s definitely no longer a reach to theorise that the cat could actually be a real person in a cat’s body.’

‘It acts like a cat, Dirk,’ Todd tells him flatly. ‘I woke up to it licking me.’

‘I lick things all the time.’

Todd gives him a weird look. ‘Don’t ever say that out loud again.’

They split the bill once Todd has drained the rest of his coffee and Dirk has finished his pancakes, and step back outside the diner into the sunlight, just on the wrong side of too warm now that it’s high in the midday sky.

‘Where to next?’ Dirk asks, and Todd raises his eyebrows at him.

‘I thought that was your area of expertise.’

‘Well, your guess is as good as mine.’

‘It’s not, though, is it?’

Todd vaguely notices as the waitress who had served them exits the front door and leans against the outside wall of the diner to light a cigarette between manicured fingers. He moves to let her pass, the smell of the cigarette taking him back to his band days and triggering a nicotine craving he had thought long dead, before something catches his eye: a poster, taped to a telephone pole just outside the door, with a photograph of a smiling woman front and centre. The bold, red word, “ _MISSING_ ,” skims the top of her long, dark hair. After spending enough time with Dirk to know that nothing whatsoever come across while a case is in progress should be ignored, Todd frowns.

‘Dirk, come look at this,’ he murmurs, squinting to read the small print below the woman’s face as he senses rather than sees Dirk come to stand at his shoulder. There’s a phone number, and a plea to get in touch if anybody knows where she could be. Dirk stands silently beside him for a moment as they both stare at the poster, the waitress from the diner quietly puffing away close by.

‘ _Missing_ ,’ Dirk breathes, a familiar combination of intrigue and bewilderment breathy in his voice.

‘This is connected, isn’t it?’ Todd asks, even though he already knows the answer. Dirk nods slowly.

‘Oh, yes, Todd. I think it is.’

‘Is this the next… thing? We’re meant to find this… Persephone girl?’

Todd’s answer is questioned by the voice of the waitress behind them, prompting them both to turn around. She’s twiddling the cigarette between her fingers lazily.

‘I don’t expect you’ll be seeing her hanging around here too soon,’ she comments. ‘It’s been over two years now since she went missing.’

Todd’s curiosity is piqued. ‘What happened?’

The waitress shrugs and wafts her cigarette vaguely. The smell of it practically makes Todd’s skin itch. ‘Gone in a puff of smoke. My husband was on the force. They couldn’t find a trace.’

Dirk shoots Todd a steady, meaningful look before turning back to her.

‘Who put this poster up?’ he asks.

‘That’ll be her father, David Prefect. Persistent guy. Won’t stop with the posters, even though everyone who ever sets foot in this town has seen them a million times over. Other than you guys, of course.’

‘And do you happen to know where we might be able to find him?’

‘Prefect?’ The waitress pauses to take another drag.  ‘He lives over on Second, near Saint Anthony’s.’

Dirk smiles pleasantly at her. ‘Thank you, Mrs…’

‘Gilks.’

‘Mrs Gilks. I hope you have a wonderful afternoon.’

‘Uh,’ Todd adds as Dirk turns on his heel and makes a beeline for the parking lot around the other side of the Arby’s. ‘Bye.’

He hurries after Dirk, leaving the waitress alone to enjoy her break, jogging a few paces to catch up. Dirk is in full manic energy mode.

‘I’ve got a good feeling about this.’

‘You think this guy will know what happened to Gusty?’

‘Who knows?’ Dirk shrugs. ‘But I’m sure he’ll be interested in some help finding his daughter. Where did that lady say he lived, again?’

They reach the van and pause for a moment. Todd wracks his useless brain.

‘Saint Anthony’s? Uh. What percentage is your phone battery on?’

Dirk pulls his phone out of his jacket pocket and looks down at it. ‘Twenty-three.’

Todd checks his own. ‘Nine. You win GPS privileges.’

‘Oh, good. My favourite kind of privileges.’

Todd unlocks the van and hauls himself back into the driver’s seat, waiting for a moment before turning the key in the ignition for Dirk to climb in beside him.

‘Another missing girl,’ Todd muses. ‘It _is_ like the Lydia Spring case.’

‘But with cacti.’

‘Yeah. And significantly less time travel.’

‘Well, as far as we know,’ Dirk points out seriously. ‘Don’t count your eggs before they chicken, Todd.’

Todd feels the corners of his mouth twitch up into an involuntary smile at the insanely, cheerfully ridiculous man currently struggling to clip himself into his seatbelt beside him.

‘I don’t think “chicken” is a verb.’

‘Oh, don’t be a spoilsport.’

Todd shakes his head with fond exasperation as he swings the van out of the parking lot, clouds of dust filling the air behind them, and takes them back out onto the road.


	5. This Isn't "Barry Proper"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys meet Sephy’s father, and Todd goes sleuthing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings here, fellas. General themes of familial breakdown, estrangement and social ostracisation, but if you have issues with any of those things I’m assuming you won’t have got this far.

After an hour of waiting, Todd is quietly losing the will to live.

They accept that no one’s home after a few minutes of ringing the doorbell with increasing insistence, and elect to wait for him in the van, where they remain until it becomes uncomfortably hot with the sun streaming through the windscreen and they’re forced to instead perch on the wall outside David Prefect’s house after all of about ten minutes. They chat aimlessly, the distant sound of cars on the main road interspersed with quips and comments that lapse into companionable silences while Dirk twitches and fiddles with restless energy, Gusty alone in his contentedness where he dozes in the shade of the van at their feet. Todd’s sunglasses keep sliding down his nose, and his ass is sore. It’s not been an amazing afternoon.

He’s also not doing a particularly good job at keeping his mind off his minor Dirk-related crisis, and frantic, confused buzzing fills the space between his ears during every second of silence that falls between them. He’s never been so glad of Dirk’s tendency to ramble.

After another half-hour, there’s one particularly long, peaceful lull in the conversation, and Todd closes his eyes and tries to breathe evenly through his nose, fighting against the unholy combination of racing thoughts and too much time with which to entertain them. Blessedly, Dirk breaks the silence.

‘Do you think plants have feelings?’

Todd slides his gaze towards him in lieu of a response. After a moment’s thought, Dirk continues.

‘Do you think, for leafy Seattle plants coming to visit their cactus relatives in the desert, this is their idea of hell on earth? “But, Mum, I don't want to go to New Mexico. It's too hot and Grandma is so _prickly!_ ” “Be quiet, Timmy, your father’s leaving me for an orchid because he found out I’m sleeping with his brother.”’

Todd continues to stare wordlessly, one eyebrow raised as he waits for Dirk to wear himself out.

Dirk frowns. ‘I don’t understand straight people.’

‘Is this what it’s like living inside your head?’

‘Depends. Was what I just said weird, complicated and vaguely irritating?’

‘That actually sums you up pretty well, yeah.’

‘It gets louder with the hunches,’ Dirk says matter-of-factly, but there’s something in his face that makes him look strangely troubled. ‘The universe, it’s... near constant, in my head, all the time. But sometimes the hunches are so strong I can’t hear anything else. It’s deafening. Overwhelming.’

Todd knows he needs to say something, to offer his support, but it’s hard to find the words. He’s done this before, back in Bergsberg when Dirk was going through a particularly bad bout of existential turmoil, but this time it’s different, feels intimate for some reason, and it’s near impossible to get the right words out. He clears his throat awkwardly.

‘You know you can... like, come to me, right? When you’re feeling overwhelmed? I mean, we can talk about it, or watch a movie or... something. Yeah. Y’know?’

Dirk offers him a bemused grin.

‘Thank you, Todd. And might I congratulate you on the unsurpassable eloquence with which you express matters of emotion?’

‘Shut up,’ Todd grumbles, feeling his cheeks flush pink. ‘Your nose is peeling. You should buy some sunblock.’

‘I bet that’s what the plant lady said to her husband, too, and look where it got them.’

There’s a significant pause, during which Todd continues to stare at Dirk in amused disbelief.

‘I really don’t understand straight people.’

‘You don’t understand _any_ people.’

‘That’s a fair point, actually,’ Dirk admits. After a moment, he takes a deep breath as if steadying himself, and turns to look Todd in the eye.

‘Todd?’

‘Yeah?’

‘When we get the rest of the cat back, you should be the one to give him back to Melinda.’

‘Uh. Okay.’ Todd frowns. ‘Why? It’ll blatantly be you who finds it.’

Dirk gives him a pointed look. ‘But I’m not the one who wants to impress her.’

Todd feels his mouth form the beginning of a question, nonplussed confusion on his lips as his brain struggles to keep up. Dirk thinks he’s trying to impress Melinda. Todd hasn’t given her a second thought since she walked out of the Agency the day before. Is Dirk… _worried_ that Todd might have a thing for her? Does he _want_ him to be? Todd scrambles to collect a handful of words from the corners of his brain and squash them together into a coherent sentence.

‘Dirk, is it… is it _bothering_ you? You know it’s not a… thing, right? She’s married, and I’m… I-I don’t wanna _date_ her. I just thought she was… y’know. Kinda hot. You must have felt like that before, right?’

Dirk appears to consider this for a moment.

‘I suppose so,’ he concedes eventually. ‘I suppose it doesn’t have to be any more than that.’

Todd lets an incredulous laugh escape his lips before he can stop it, shaking his head vehemently. ‘No, dude. Like… no.’

Dirk nods, looking considerably more cheerful.

‘Well… good. Because I’d miss having you around.’

Once again, Todd feels his mouth open in an attempt to form a response that his brain can’t seem to conjure, a cacophony of questions clamouring for attention in his mind, and he suddenly feels a little like he understands what Dirk means by the constant noise in his head. Before he can suffer for too lengthy a period, a rickety-looking car clatters into view, slowing as it passes them and pulls up into the drive beside the wall where they’re seated. Dirk claps his hands together with excitement and turns to Todd, speaking fast.

‘He’s back. Just quickly, Todd, when we’re in there, if at any point I refer to you by your full name, that’s your cue to go off and snoop around while I distract him.’

‘What?’ Todd hisses, but Dirk has already slipped down from the wall and is starting towards the car. ‘Dirk, no-’

‘Hi!’ Dirk waves cheerfully at the man getting out of the car and watching Dirk with suspicion. He’s of a portly, rotund figure, slightly taller than Dirk and stern-faced beneath his greying beard, but his dark eyes betray a sort of kindness that tells Todd this man isn’t a threat. Probably. Todd slides himself off the wall and hurries over to stand at Dirk’s side.

‘Are you David Prefect?’ Dirk asks. The man considers him warily.

‘Yes, I am. Who are you?’

‘My name’s Dirk Gently, and this here is Todd. We couldn’t help but notice your missing person poster.’

‘I’m not taking them down,’ David says flatly, and Dirk shakes his head.

‘No, no, that’s not why we’re here. Mr Prefect,’ Dirk digs in his jacket pocket and pulls out a business card, handing it over as Todd makes a herculean effort not to roll his eyes, ‘we’re private detectives.’

David stiffens, his eyes flitting between Dirk and Todd in disbelief. Wordlessly, and before Todd can consider whether walking straight into a potentially nefarious stranger’s house is actually a good idea, David is unlocking his front door and ushering the two of them hurriedly inside.

He closes it abruptly behind Todd as soon as he has stepped into the poky hallway, trapping the three of them between vomit-green walls, which Dirk is eyeing up with approval. David rounds on them, urgency in his eyes.

‘Who are you people?’ he demands. ‘What do you want? Are you press? You're not from around here. Why are you here?’

‘Well, that’s actually a fairly complicated-’ Dirk begins delicately, before Todd cuts him off.

‘We’re not press. We’re partners in a detective agency from Seattle, and we just happened to be passing through here for… other reasons.’

David shakes his head in agitation, and Todd is unsure whether he’s even listened to a word he’s just said.

‘I don’t know what happened to Catherine, okay? I can't give you what you want.’

‘Catherine?’ Dirk repeats innocently. ‘Who’s Catherine?’

David meets his eyes heavily. ‘She’s my wife. Look… Sephy’s been missing for two years, I-I’ve tried everything – the police, private detectives, the lot. I don’t have any money left, and they’ve all given up. But I won’t. I won’t ever give up on her.’

‘Neither will we, Mr Prefect,’ Dirk assures him. ‘We’re here to help.’

‘How? What can you do that somebody else hasn’t already tried?’

Todd attempts a measured response before Dirk can start spouting his trademark psychobabble and freaking the poor man out entirely.

‘It’s… a kind of complex method of investigation, but we, uh… find it works for us.’

‘With arguable efficiency,’ Dirk adds.

David deflates a little. He looks between the two of them with a kind of hollow wretchedness carved into the lines of his face, the face of a man laid bare by the indomitable, soul-destroying pain of loss, and Todd feels a pang of sympathy deep in his gut. He speaks more softly, more bitterly, and the words sound broken in his throat.

‘Mr… Dirk. I’m sorry, but I just can’t pay you-’

‘Oh, payment won’t be necessary,’ Dirk says firmly.

‘But… then what…?’

‘We told you, we’re already on a case. And we think your daughter might be connected. Our fees are all taken care of.’

‘Connected?’ David asks in bewilderment. ‘To what?’

Dirk sweeps his hands dramatically as if making the shape of a rainbow in the air with his palms, the hint of an excited smile glittering in his eyes.

‘ _Everything_.’

‘We’ll explain it all to you,’ Todd clarifies quickly. ‘But, first, you need to tell us everything you know about your daughter’s disappearance.’

David hesitates, shadows of conflict drifting across his face as he visibly battles with himself. After a long moment, he jerks his head as an instruction to follow, and walks the length of the narrow hall before disappearing through the door at the end.

Todd meets Dirk’s eyes in silent concern, and in an instant is sure that they’re thinking the same thing. Something has happened here, something that David doesn’t want anyone to know about.

Todd isn’t too proud to admit to himself that the sense of foreboding he feels is accompanied by a sudden thrill. Maybe not out loud, though.

They follow David through the door and into a bright, warm living room, lit by the sun glowing softly from the south. There are a couple of saggy-looking, grey couches arranged in the centre of the room, a TV, and little else. It feels like a home that was once well-loved and full of laughter, and has slowly been deserted, bit-by-bit, by all of the inhabitants, a tapestry of family members now fraying at the edges.

‘Please, sit,’ David throws a vague gesture towards one of the couches. ‘Can I get either of you guys a drink?’

‘No, thank you,’ Dirk answers politely, and Todd just shakes his head. They gingerly perch side-by-side on the under-stuffed couch, and wait in awkward silence while David lowers himself onto the one opposite, hands clasped in discomfort.

‘What do you want to know?’ he asks finally.

‘Why don’t you start by telling us what happened the day Sephy disappeared?’ Dirk suggests. David’s hands are clenched together so tightly that his knuckles are white. He clears his throat.

‘Well, I hadn’t seen her in a couple weeks. She lives over on the other side of town. And I… I dropped by one weekend to visit, and she’d just… gone. There were clothes on the line, half a cup of coffee… and no sign of Sephy.’

‘You hadn’t spoken to her that day?’ Dirk asks.

‘No.’

‘And she lived alone?’

‘Yes.’

‘Was there anyone in her life who could’ve turned on her?’ Todd asks. ‘Anyone new, like… a partner, maybe? Could she have made any enemies?’

‘Oh, she’s not the kind of person who makes enemies. She’s a sweet girl, always spending time with her old man. Had friends from work, but none of them had seen her for weeks.’

‘Wait, no one had seen her for _weeks?_ ’ Todd repeats. ‘And her boss didn’t come calling wondering where she was?’

David opens his mouth and closes it again before deciding on a response.

‘She… was calling in sick,’ he explains uncertainly. Dirk’s eyes are narrowed in thought as he stares unfocusedly in front of him, and Todd can almost hear the gears turning in his head.

‘Then something must have happened a while before she went missing,’ Dirk muses. ‘Something must have been wrong. Where did she work?’

‘Uh. Over on the other side of town. Burger joint called “Frydas Touch”.’

‘And they didn’t notice that she hadn’t been turning up for her shifts? Sounds like some pretty poor management to me. My friend Farah says that any hierarchical business structure-’

‘Had she been acting strangely at all before she disappeared?’ Todd interrupts before Dirk can start attempting to outline an entire new business strategy for a small-town New Mexican burger joint.

‘No, no. She was… she was her usual self, mostly.’

‘“Mostly”?’ Todd needles.

‘What about her mother?’ Dirk adds and David turns back to him, looking increasingly flustered. ‘You mentioned that you don’t know where she is.’

‘She’s not around anymore. Look, this isn’t about Catherine.’

Dirk points a finger at him suddenly, animated as he continues to address him with sparking curiosity in his eyes, as unlikely to pause in a universe-induced questioning tirade as he is to stay still during times of particular excitement.

‘You said Sephy was always spending time with you, but you hadn’t heard from her in weeks? You must have tried visiting her.’

‘No, I… yes-’

‘And she wasn’t going to work? Or picking up the phone? I mean, didn’t you try to call her?’

‘Yes-’

‘Mr Prefect,’ Dirk says firmly, as David stares back at him, eyes wide in fear and alarm. ‘It doesn’t add up. This can’t have happened out of the blue. And someone must have known that something was going on. _You_ must have known that something was going on.’ He fixes David with an imploring look, speaking more gently. ‘Please, Mr Prefect. Let us help you. Tell us what really happened to your daughter.’

A heavy pause, one that seems to last a lifetime, falls over the room, and Todd waits in silent anticipation for an answer from the drawn-looking man sitting across from them. He’s, admittedly, rather impressed by Dirk’s tactical manipulation skills.

After a long moment, David lowers his head defeatedly into his hands.

‘She… oh, god, you can’t tell a soul,’ he murmurs. ‘She’ll be run out of town like her mother.’

‘What? What do you mean, “run out of town”?’ Todd interjects.

‘She… she didn’t disappear out of nowhere. Well, she did, but… not all at once.’

Todd shoots Dirk a sharp look, an inkling of understanding beginning to bloom. Dirk meets his gaze, wearing an expression inappropriately close to elation.

‘It was like she was vanishing into thin air,’ David continues in a hushed voice. ‘Her fingers, then down into her arms, from her feet and up into her body, slowly disappearing. I don’t… I don’t know how to explain it-’

‘Until she was gone completely?’ Dirk asks. David looks up at him in anguish.

‘It took a few weeks. There was nothing I could do. If anyone found out, I don’t know what would have happened to her.’

Dirk inclines his head in consideration. ‘I suppose it’s not the kind of thing one can really see a doctor about,’ he comments mildly, and Todd could strangle him.

‘We almost did,’ says David. ‘We would have tried anything. But with the suspicion in this town and what happened to Catherine-’

‘What _did_ happen to Catherine?’ Todd interrupts.

‘Catherine… Catherine was… different. Strange things happened when she was around, she… she left us when the kids were young, gone without a trace for five years. And then, when she came back, she’d changed somehow. Wouldn’t come near me, wouldn’t touch her daughters. And then things started going missing, and she… everyone thought she…’

‘…Was a witch,’ Dirk finishes, his voice barely above an awed whisper. David nods slowly, painfully.

‘She was forced out of the town, people accusing her of witchcraft. They said she was evil, and I don’t know if I believe it, but… the rumours spread, and… I didn’t know what to think anymore. I just wanted to keep my daughters safe. Mr Gently, I think she did something to Sephy. I think she took her away.’

Silence swirls thick in the air, the wretched despair in David’s voice, the pain of his loss, permeating every bone in Todd’s body. It has even prompted enough tact in Dirk that he is clearly tempering his case-related glee and working at being markedly less… bouncy.

‘How long ago did this happen?’ he asks.

‘Must be going on eighteen years now,’ David replies, his voice hollow and tired, and Todd’s chest aches with sympathy. ‘It’s rumoured that she lives out in the desert, watching us from afar, haunting us like some kind of ghost. But no one’s seen her since. I’ve… I’ve been trying to track her down ever since Sephy disappeared.’

‘But you couldn’t reach her?’ says Dirk.

A wry, bitter smile forms across David’s mouth. ‘You can’t find a witch if she doesn’t want to be found.’

Dirk turns to Todd, excitement rapidly returning to his normal levels.

‘This is getting more and more interesting by the minute.’

‘ _Dirk_ …’ Todd mutters, shooting him an admonishing glare before looking back up at David. ‘Mr Prefect, I’m so sorry about everything that’s happened to you. We’ll do whatever we can to get to the bottom of this. We’ll get your daughter back. If there’s anyone who can find her, it’s Dirk.’

‘Right you are, Todd Brotzman,’ Dirk beams, and it takes less than a second for Todd’s brain to snap itself into gear. His stomach flutters in anticipation at the thrill of hearing his cue, so much so that he barely notices Dirk jerking a thumb towards him and stage-whispering to David. ‘He’s a very good assistant when he feels like it. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to ask you some specifics about the case. In no particular order, I’d like to know exactly what happened the first time Catherine left, how old your children were, how long she was gone, _why_ exactly she was suspected of witchcraft-’

Just as David attempts to open his mouth, eyes wide and overwhelmed at Dirk’s frantic questioning, Todd stands abruptly.

‘Could I use your bathroom?’

David blinks. ‘Uh. Sure. Up the stairs and on the right.’

‘Thanks,’ Todd says stiffly. Dirk gives him a wide smile, and he offers back a weird, awkward nod that he instantly regrets before sloping out of the room and back into the hall, closing the door gently behind him. The muffled speech from the living room is evidence enough that Dirk has continued his babbling with vigour. Todd feels another pang of sympathy for David, but it’s for a totally different reason than before.

Taking a breath to steady himself, Todd crosses the sickly green hallway and begins to climb the stairs as quietly as he can, before remembering that he’s been expressly permitted to get this far and consciously trying to regain a normal footfall. The top step creaks loudly, setting his heart racing.

Todd tries his best to calm his nerves as he steps onto the landing. A myriad of family photos are arranged at the top of the stairs, in several makeshift frames attached artlessly together, presumably by young children, and several half-open doors are dotted around the walls. On the right-hand side, one of the doors opens into what is clearly the bathroom, a towel rail and bathmat visible just inside. Skipping what he assumes is the least interesting room in the house, Todd instead steps quietly towards the next door along, and pokes his head around to see inside.

It looks like a pretty standard master bedroom, a large bed with a checked comforter standing proudly at the centre against one of the walls, opposite the window. Todd slowly nudges the door a little more open, thanking whatever deity could potentially be watching over him that it doesn’t creak, and slips inside.

His mouth is dry as he surveys the room, barely knowing where to start and internally berating himself for somehow ending up in another situation so stressful he’ll probably have a stroke before he turns forty. If he gets in the shit for this, he’s going to kill Dirk.

He tiptoes first towards the nightstand at the side of the bed, where an alarm clock, a glass of water and a pair of reading glasses are perched on top. He opens the drawer carefully and peers inside to find a dog-eared copy of _The Davinci Code_ amongst various miscellaneous articles: a reading light, a packet of indigestion pills, a pen, a couple of batteries which roll audibly in the bottom of the drawer when Todd pulls it out, practically making his heart stop. So far, so normal.

He gently closes the drawer and pads over to the wardrobe. It’s filled with jeans and shirts, a couple of jackets and one slightly moth-eaten suit which David has probably owned since he graduated high school. The dresser drawers are even more disappointing, being predominantly filled with socks and undergarments which make Todd feel uncomfortably voyeuristic to poke through.

Frustrated, Todd quietly vacates the bedroom and heads back out onto the landing, considering the remaining three doors positioned around the staircase. The low murmur of voices continues to waft from the living room downstairs, and Todd finds himself suddenly grateful for the incessant speed and volume of Dirk’s speech, leaving little to no opportunity for David to hear any suspicious noises coming from above.

Todd sneaks into the next room, which seems to be some kind of home study. The desk houses an old computer monitor, alongside an array of pieces of stationery and haphazardly organised sheets of paper in varyingly crumpled states. Todd approaches the desk slowly, peering at the papers, and realises with an unhappy jolt that they are countless copies of the poster that he and Dirk had seen outside the diner, all displaying the same photograph of the carefree, smiling young woman. He tears his eyes from Sephy’s gaze and moves quickly on to rummaging through the drawers before he can feel too guilty about snooping around her grieving father’s house.

In the top drawer, there is a wodge of unopened mail. Todd takes out the top few envelopes and flicks through them, trying to work out whether there could be anything useful among them. A couple are printed with bank logos, and there are several junk leaflets and takeout menus. Just as he is about to put the letters carefully back into the drawer, one of them catches his eye.

Addressed to “Ms Persephone Prefect”, several of the lines beneath her name – presumably her home address – have been blacked out, and a “FAILED DELIVERY: REDIRECTED” stamp sits beneath David’s own address next to it. Todd turns the envelope over to find, in blocky letters on the back, the word, “CONFIDENTIAL”.

Todd reads the envelope over again. It definitely looks unusual enough to be significant, and he can’t help a shiver of elation running through him at the knowledge that he may have finally found something useful.

He is snapped abruptly from his reverie by the sound of the living room door opening downstairs, Dirk’s voice becoming rather louder as he steps out into the hallway, and the alarm bells start ringing in his head.

‘…And thank you again for all your help, Mr Prefect, I promise you we’ll do our very best to sort all of this out once and for all. Todd! Hurry up! Honestly, he’s probably standing and preening in front of the mirror-’

Without a second’s thought, Todd stuffs the envelope into the waistband of his jeans and pulls the hem of his shirt down over it to hide the evidence. His heart slams in his ribcage as he quietly closes the desk drawer and slips out of the study, taking a second to arrange his posture and facial expression into something he hopes looks entirely innocent and not-sketchy-in-any-way-at-all, before starting back down the stairs.

Dirk is standing in the hallway with David, who looks how the majority of people look after spending an uninterrupted period of time listening to Dirk talk. Todd is greeted with a sunny smile as he reaches the bottom of the staircase.

‘Ah, there you are!’ Dirk says without a hint of concern that Todd could have been caught, and Todd isn’t sure whether to feel irritated by his apparent lack of care, or pleased that he seems to consider him so capable. ‘I was just saying to Mr Prefect that we should be leaving him alone to get on with his day. I think I’ve got all the information we’ll need for now!’

‘Great,’ Todd nods, doing his best to look at ease. ‘Thank you for your time, Mr Prefect.’

David shakes his head. ‘I just want her safe.’

Bidding David goodbye, Todd follows Dirk out of the front door and down the path with the letter burning the skin beneath his clothes. He glances back at the closed door behind them. God damnit, he needs another coffee.

Dirk adopts a thoughtful expression as they reach the van at the end of the path. Gusty remains snoozing in the shade right where they left him.

‘Catherine Prefect,’ he murmurs. ‘The witch of Brujapuebo.’

Todd leans back against the side of the van, arms folded.

‘That doesn’t sound ominous at all.’

‘Are you thinking what I’m thinking?’

‘I dunno. What are you thinking?’

‘That if we want to find Sephy, we’re going to have to find her mother.’ Dirk grins, enthusiasm oozing from every pore. ‘Come on, we’ve got a good afternoon’s worth of light left. I’ll drive!’

‘Hold on,’ Todd stops him, ‘you wanna just drive right out into the middle of nowhere to confront a witch who kidnaps people from their homes?’

Dirk pauses for a moment, considering.

‘Yes.’

‘Dirk, we have no idea what we’re up against,’ Todd protests. ‘She could be all... double, double, toil and trouble! Eye of... toad, and... maybe the eye of another animal, too. I’m not actually sure.’

Dirk looks at him with an expression of utter bemusement ‘What on earth are you talking about, Todd?’

‘My point is, she could be dangerous,’ Todd explains patiently. Dirk just shrugs.

‘Everything’s dangerous around me. Isn’t that why you stick around? I mean, what did you expect? This isn’t “Barry Proper”.’

The combination of the appallingly incorrect name of a popular franchise and Dirk’s apparent assumption that the only reason Todd spends time with him is because he’s a thrill-seeking adrenaline junkie throws him completely for a loop. He blinks.

‘Why I…? What? It…it’s “Harry Potter”.’

‘No, it’s not him either,’ Dirk shakes his head, looking confused. ‘Is that his orange friend?’

‘Look,’ Todd says firmly, cutting off this particular line of conversation before it can further devolve into a bizarre tangent. ‘We shouldn’t be doing this alone, or at least not until we know what we’re dealing with.’

‘And how do you propose we find that out?’

‘I think you’re forgetting that we know the perfect person to help.’

Todd pauses expectantly, and it’s only seventy percent for dramatic effect. Dirk, however, looks entirely blank.

Todd sighs.

‘Amanda,’ he prompts. ‘Amanda’s a witch.’

‘Oh my god,’ Dirk blinks at him. ‘Amanda’s a _witch!_ ’

‘Also, walking right into a witch’s lair is really not something we want to be doing without Farah.’

Dirk places a hand on Todd’s shoulder with a serious look on his face, and Todd tries to ignore the way his stomach backflips.

‘Farah isn’t here, Todd. You’ve just got me.’

Todd affects a semi-serious expression of dawning horror. ‘Oh, god, we’re gonna die.’

‘Oh, don’t be so melodramatic. Come on, brainbox: where out here would we find a witch?’

Todd sighs heavily, and gives in.

‘I mean, there are thousands of miles of nothing. She could hide pretty much anywhere out in the desert and would be impossible to find without drones or helicopters, especially if she didn’t stay in the same place.’

‘Very true. Add to that some magical, witchy powers, and you’ve got somebody really, _really_ difficult to get hold of.’

‘Hold on a second,’ Todd says suddenly, a thought bumbling its way clumsily into realisation. ‘David Prefect said no one can find her if she _doesn’t want to be found_.’

Dirk frowns. ‘Right. So… you’re saying…?’

‘That we need to make her want to find _us_.’

‘Oh my god. Todd, you’re right!’ Dirk beams over at him with raw, fond pride in his eyes, and Todd suddenly feels the heat rise abashedly in his cheeks. ‘You know, you’re getting rather good at this.’

Todd opens his mouth to respond, feeling a little lightheaded, before, blessedly, identifying a change of topic. He digs into the waistband of his jeans.

‘Wait, I almost forgot…’

Pulling out the envelope he’d swiped from David’s study, he hands it to Dirk, who makes quick work of enthusiastically tearing into it and pulling out the letter inside. Todd crowds into his space so they can both read the thick, black print.

_Document Number (FOIA): CIA-RDP96-00789R0028368723847930011-832543_

_Original Classification: Classified_

_Date of Request: April 2, 2015_

_Sequence Number: 11868632_

_Case Number: A93712910992_

_Request for Release: DENIED_

_WARNING NOTICE: The requested document contains classified Central Intelligence Agency Special Access Program (SAP) material. All material from the relevant Special Access Program is ranked as: HIGHLY CLASSIFIED and: WILL NOT be disclosed._

_You have now requested access classified information: THREE times. This will be your final warning._

Todd reads it over once more, frowning heavily.

‘She was in trouble with the CIA?’ he murmurs.

‘The plot thickens.’

Todd takes the documentation out of Dirk’s hands and rifles through it, flipping the paper over and inspecting the envelope. To his disappointment, there is no evidence of a home address other than David’s, and what is presumably hiding beneath the blackout on the front of the envelope.

‘Shit,’ he sighs. ‘No address. I mean, we could ask David for her information, but… I dunno if he’d be cool with that.’

Dirk cocks his head to one side, considering. ‘Surely somebody around here would be willing to tell us where she lived. Maybe we should go to the police?’

‘They’re not gonna willingly give us personal information, Dirk.’

‘They could give us _something_ , though. Why don’t I go to the station and bother them until they tell us what they know about the case so far?’

Todd recalls some of Dirk’s prior encounters with law enforcement during the Lydia Spring case with uncomfortable vividity, and balks.

‘No, Dirk, you’re not... you’re not good at... that.’

‘But what if they’ve got a lead, Todd?’ Dirk urges. ‘They could tell us more about the witch!’

Todd hurriedly thinks up a compromise.

‘Okay, how about _I_ go to the station and talk to them like a concerned citizen without annoying them so much they arrest us both, and _you_ go to the restaurant where Sephy used to work and see if any weird shit was going down before she went missing?’

Dirk beams. ‘Great idea, Todd. I’ll do weird, you do useful. It’ll probably suit our roles quite beautifully.’

‘No kidding. Maybe let’s move the van from the front of this guy’s house first.’

‘That sounds like a plan.’

Dirk scoops up Gusty’s head and chest into his arms with no small amount of awkwardness, and deposits him cheerfully in the back of the van. Todd can’t help a small, fond smile as he, once again, follows him around to the front.


	6. Lizard On A Prayer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Todd and Dirk are bad at detecting. Todd deals with some ~issues~.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lil bit more heaviness in this chapter – warnings are for mentions of PTSD and psychological trauma as we try to figure out what happened to Catherine. There’s also some (hallucinated) blood and gore in here, and pain-induced nausea (trigger for emetophobia), all courtesy of a pararibulitis attack. Todd really needs a hug. On another note: spot the original Douglas Adams character name-drop!

_2014._

Nine forty-five. Oops.

Mandi strolls brazenly through the open doors of Frydas Touch, hoping that her display of exaggerated confidence will charm her sister into ignoring her failings as a person. It’s her usual method.

She spots her sitting in a booth near the back of the diner, chatting with one of the waiters loitering nearby, both of them wearing the awful requisite red-and-white diner uniforms. Mandi removes her dark glasses and makes a beeline for them.

Sephy looks up as she approaches, her expression visibly unimpressed.

‘Well, if it isn’t my favourite sister,’ Mandi greets her easily.

‘I told you my shift starts at ten.’

‘Yeah, I overslept. What’s up, Ollie-Boy?’ Mandi holds out a fist to the waiter, who bumps it with his own.

‘Hey, Smaller Seph. You want something to eat?’

‘Double bacon, hold the pickle?’ she asks sweetly.

‘Coming right up.’

Ollie disappears towards the kitchen and Mandi hauls herself into the booth opposite her sister, who doesn’t need to vocalise her disapproval at the concept of ordering a burger before ten o’clock in the morning when Mandi can feel the waves of judgement radiating off her from across the table.

‘So, what’s up?’ Mandi asks.

‘Just thought it would be nice to catch up.’

‘Cute.’

‘And it’s Mom’s birthday.’

Mandi feels her stomach roll in distaste, and pulls a face that she feels accurately portrays her thoughts on this piece of news. ‘Okay. And I should care about that because…?’

‘Because she’s our mother?’

‘And there was me thinking she relinquished that title when she skipped town on us for five years when we were kids. Funny, that.’

Sephy glares at her. ‘Do you not have a single ounce of compassion?’

‘Uh, for a woman who voluntarily walked out on her young children without a word?’ Mandi folds her arms coolly. ‘Not really.’

‘Who said it was voluntary?’

Mandi rolls her eyes so hard they almost disappear into the back of her head, irritation and tiredness hot under her skin.

‘We’re not going through this again. _She_ said it was voluntary. She went to stay with Aunt Miriam or whatever her name was.’

‘But what if she didn’t?’ Sephy presses.

‘Seph, if you dragged me here for another one of your nerdy conspiracy theories, you can count me the fuck out,’ Mandi replies flatly. ‘She left us, and then she was chased out of town because she was a goddamn witch. Can you not just accept that she wasn’t a good person?’

Sephy shakes her head. ‘I don’t think she left us.’

Mandi gives up. _Like a dog with a fucking bone._

‘Come on, then,’ she sighs heavily. ‘Spit it out.’

‘I thought you weren’t interested.’

‘Sephy, I swear to God-’

‘Mom never had a sister,’ Sephy finally declares. ‘There’s no record of a birth certificate, or any indication that she had any siblings. She was an only child. Aunt Miriam never existed.’

Mandi raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. ‘Fine. So, she’s a liar on top of everything else. And your point is…?’

‘My point is, when she went away, she came back different, right?’

‘Mm.’

‘She was withdrawn and detached and depressed. She had nightmares. She wasn’t sleeping. She would get really upset for seemingly no reason. Those are all symptoms of PTSD, or at least some kind of reaction to trauma. She disappeared out of the blue, lied to us about where she went, and returned depressed and traumatised.’

‘So…?’ Mandi asks dully, and Sephy huffs in irritation.

‘ _So_ , I did some digging. And the more I tried to look for information about her online, the less I could find. I mean, she was chased out of a town by the inhabitants with torches and pitchforks on suspicion of _witchcraft_ , and none of that got out? No mention anywhere on the internet?’

‘Maybe they just managed to keep it hushed up.’

‘Maybe,’ Sephy agrees, but there’s a glint of excitement in her eyes, a conspiratorial tone to her voice that she has affected with every outlandish theory borne of her overactive imagination since she was a child scaring her younger sister with ghost stories. ‘But it’s pretty unlikely. So, I submitted a Freedom of Information request to the police-’ Mandi closes her eyes for a long moment in despair ‘-and they came back with _nothing_. The request was granted, but there were absolutely no records of a Catherine Prefect matching her details, not even a social security number.’

‘What?’ Mandi finally allows herself to react with something other than blatant disinterest. ‘How is that possible? She was named on our birth certificates, I’ve seen them.’

‘Exactly,’ Sephy leans in enthusiastically. ‘There was _once_ a record of her, but not anymore. Which means her records must have been wiped.’

‘But… why?’

‘I don’t know, but I figured there must be some legal or political reason her information is confidential. A _state_ reason. So, _then_ , I submitted a Freedom of Information request to the CIA-’

‘You did _what?!_ ’ Mandi yelps, but Sephy ignores her, already pulling an open envelope out of her handbag and placing it in front of Mandi on the table.

‘-And I got this letter back.’

Frowning with reluctant intrigue, Mandi slowly picks up the envelope and eases out the letter inside. The block letters at the top read: “FREEDOM OF INFORMATION REQUEST: ACCESS DENIED”.

Mandi reads the letter carefully, anxiety bubbling in her stomach.

‘You think she was like… a secret agent or something?’

Sephy shrugs. ‘Or something. Maybe that’s why she left and couldn’t tell us where she went.’

Mandi doesn’t respond. She fingers the letter gingerly, troubled.

‘I have to find out the truth,’ Sephy says decisively after a moment, and Mandi’s head snaps up in alarm.

‘What? Seph, you’ve been issued a warning by the _C-I-fucking-A_. You could be branded an enemy of the state. They could do _anything_ to you.’

‘Oh, come on, Mandi,’ Sephy rolls her eyes. ‘You want to just carry on pissing our lives away in the middle of nowhere without knowing _anything?_ ’ She shakes her head. ‘I’m gonna do everything I can to find out what happened. And that way… maybe we could get her back.’

Mandi stares at her. ‘You’re crazy,’ she tells her, but Sephy just grins, always the one who seemed less brash, less loud, less gaudy, and yet the one with more nerve than even Mandi’s arrogant front.

‘Help me,’ she says tantalisingly. ‘Come on. Don’t you want to know what happened to her?’

Mandi stares down at the table in front of her, and for a moment she wonders whether her curiosity will win out over her cowardice, whether she could do something for once in her life that she would be proud of. But she is the weak one, the spineless one, the one who can only hide behind the veil of easy, false bravado, the one who is always _scared_ , and she can’t do a thing but disappoint.

She slowly shakes her head.

‘I can’t. I can’t be a part of this. If you wanna go get yourself killed or locked up for the rest of your life, then… that’s your choice.’

‘Okay,’ Sephy replies, and there is no disappointment in her voice, no bitterness, just acceptance. ‘I hear you.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t be stupid,’ she smiles, standing up from the booth. ‘Look, I gotta start my shift.’

As she turns to leave, Mandi grabs hold of her hand in sudden panic.

‘Sephy, please don’t do this,’ she begs. ‘For once in your life, just let this one go.’

Slowly, wordlessly, Sephy extricates her hand, and plants a gentle kiss on the top of her sister’s head.

‘See you around, kiddo.’

Mandi sits there numbly for a long time after Sephy has started her shift. When Ollie brings over her burger, she finds she’s no longer hungry.

***

Todd pushes open the glass door of the tiny police station with a sense of foreboding and slightly sweaty palms. The officer at the desk looks up as he enters, badge prominent and shining against her shirt, and Todd is already kicking himself for putting himself up for this.

‘Can I help you?’ the officer asks. Todd’s legs carry him uncertainly towards the desk. He clears his throat.

‘Hi. Uh, could I speak to Sergeant Gilks?’

The officer shifts a stack of papers away from her computer keyboard and presses a button on what Todd assumes must be the intercom.

‘Gilks? Someone here for you.’ She looks back up at Todd. ‘He’ll be right out.’

‘Thanks,’ Todd smiles tightly. The officer picks up an empty coffee mug and disappears through the door behind the desk, out into the underbelly of the police station, and he’s left loitering nervously in the quiet entrance hall.

 Thankfully, another officer appears only minutes later, a tall man with a moustache who peers at Todd expectantly when he enters the room.

‘Sergeant Gilks?’ Todd asks, and the officer gives a confirmatory nod.

‘You wanted to see me?’

‘Uh. Yeah. I’m Todd Brotzman. I understand you’re involved in Sephy Prefect’s case?

‘I was,’ Gilks replies amenably, ‘not that it’s an active case anymore. You got some information for us?’

Having not even considered that that would be a police officer’s natural response to somebody showing up out of the blue wanting to talk about a dead case, Todd falls back on his own natural response to messing up, and berates himself internally.

‘No, I’m sorry,’ he grimaces, before taking a breath and launching into the spiel he’d been practising on the way to the station. ‘I’m uh, actually a distant relative of the family, and a few of us were thinking about organising a get-together in her honour. Y’know, like, to reminisce and support each other. Family stuff.’

‘Right.’

Todd latches onto the semi-response. ‘Right, and, obviously, we’d like her mother to be there, Catherine. But none of us can seem to get in contact? No one’s heard from her in years, and David refuses to talk about her. Bad breakup or something, I guess?’

‘That’s one way of putting it.’

‘And, y’know, I was just wondering if you might know anything about her whereabouts. Wouldn't be a family party without her mom there, right?’

Gilks raises an eyebrow drily, leaning back against the desk and folding his arms. ‘I’m surprised you’ve managed to set foot in this town without hearing the locals gossiping. David hasn’t spoken about her at all?’

‘No, he…’ Todd falters as his brain struggles to catch up with the picture of ignorance he’s carefully painting, but it doesn’t take long; it’s not as if he hasn’t become rather adept at lying. ‘He seemed to imply that she’d... done something bad? That the locals thought there was... something not right about her?’

‘That’s what they’ll have you believe. There’s been a stupid rumour going around for years that she’s some kind of non-human entity. A witch. All bullshit, if you ask me. Nothing but superstition and paranoia, rumours that have gotten out of hand. You know what these small towns are like.’

‘Sure, yeah. God, that’s so ridiculous. I mean, seriously? To think there’s such a thing as _witches?_ ’

 _Laying it on a bit thick_ , a voice in the back of Todd’s head warns, and he shakes his head in faux derision, attempting to pretend he isn’t deeply interested in every word of Gilks’ response.

Gilks easily takes the bait. ‘‘Course there’s no such thing, but you know how crazy rumours can get.’

‘Like, man, nothing interesting ever happens around here!’

‘Totally, totally normal town. People like to make up stories, freak each other out. But none of it’s real.’

‘I just can’t believe people thought that of Catherine,’ Todd sighs forlornly. ‘She was always… _super_ nice.’

‘She was a good’un,’ Gilks agrees, and Todd is mildly impressed by how oblivious this guy seems to be to his attempts at fishing for information. ‘It’s a real shame all of this happened.’

Eyes wide and innocent, posture relaxed, eyebrows creased in concern, Todd goes in for the kill.

‘So, do you... have any idea where I could find her? How I could get in touch?’

‘‘Fraid I can’t help you there,’ Gilks says apologetically, and Todd curses inwardly. ‘We’ve had no contact with her since she left town, not that we’d be licensed to release her information to you anyway.’

‘Of course, yeah,’ Todd nods quickly. ‘Dumb question.’

‘And we don’t hold any of her data on file, in any case.’

For a second, Todd thinks he may have misunderstood, that the idea of a citizen accused of bizarre and unexplained goings-on and later run out of town by her peers having no data on her police records is too ludicrous for serious consideration. Then he remembers that “ludicrous” is pretty much the basis of his job spec, and frowns.

‘You… none of it?’

‘No record at all,’ Gilks lowers his voice meaningfully as if imparting information that he really shouldn’t, which he probably is. ‘Orders from above.’

 _The CIA_ , Todd’s brain helpfully supplies. He slowly digests this piece of information.

‘Huh. I, uh, I mean, that’s… weird.’

Gilks narrows his eyes barely perceptibly, in a manner more curious than suspicious, but it sets alarm bells ringing in the back of Todd’s head all the same.

‘David never mentioned any extended family. What was your name again? I haven’t seen you around here before.’

‘It’s Tom Bronson,’ Todd lies easily. I’m a… cousin of David’s. Come to think of it, I should probably be getting back to him, so, uh... thanks for your help.’

‘Hey, it’s no problem,’ Gilks shrugs. ‘Sorry I couldn’t be of more use. And good luck with your get-together.’

Todd gives him a weak smile of gratitude before turning away from the desk and crossing the reception, shoulders held with as little suspicious tension as he can manage. He steps out the door of the station and into the cool of the early evening, leaving Gilks and his surprising lack of discernment far behind.

There’s not a lot to mull over on the walk back to meet Dirk, the only useful piece of information gleaned being the lack of police records on Catherine. At this point, her involvement in some kind of shady state entity doesn’t seem too much of a stretch. There’s a grim kind of humour that accompanies the question whether the US government have been employing honest to god _witches_ to carry out their dirty work.

It gives them a second connection to the powers that be. It doesn’t tell them a lot about Sephy, and even less about the damn cat.

When he rounds the corner of the side street where they’d parked the van less than an hour before, he finds Dirk leaning against it and eating what he assumes must be ice cream with a little plastic spoon from a tub. He gives Todd a beaming smile as he approaches.

‘There you are! Any leads?’

‘Nope.’

Dirk sighs. ‘Ah, _tits_.’

‘The police just think the whole witch thing is nothing but superstitious bullshit,’ Todd shrugs, and Dirk thoughtfully sticks another spoonful of ice cream in his mouth.

‘Somehow, that’s simultaneously reassuring and disappointing.’

‘Also, they have absolutely no records of Catherine on file. Like, at all. His words were, “orders from above”. That must be to do with that letter from the CIA, right?’

Dirk pauses with the plastic spoon halfway to his lips. ‘Hmm. It sounds very much like it might be, yes.’

‘Did you have any more luck?’ Todd asks, leaning against the van by Dirk’s side.

‘Well, no, not really. I did get us some ice cream, though.’

‘What kind?’

Dirk holds out the tub for Todd, who takes it. ‘Bubblegum for me, coffee for you.’

‘You know me way too well,’ Todd remarks, taking a spoonful of the cappuccino-coloured ice cream and relishing the smooth coolness on his tongue.

‘Oh, I know. Anyway, the nice waiter wouldn’t tell me anything about Sephy, but, since he was kind enough to give me his phone number, I have to assume he was passionately interested in the outcome of the case.’

He waves a slip of paper vaguely in the air, and Todd feels his heart drop unpleasantly into his stomach at his words.

‘What?’ he asks sharply, grabbing the paper from Dirk’s hand. ‘Let me…’

Todd stares at the scrap of paper held tightly between his fingers. It’s the receipt for the ice cream, printed with the restaurant’s logo, across which someone has scrawled a phone number in messy writing, followed by the name “Ollie”, and a kiss. Hit with a surge of anger so violent that his body suddenly feels almost entirely numb, Todd turns it over in his hands, and finds that there is more writing on the back: an address.

The following promise of, “I won’t tell if you don’t,” makes Todd want to rip the paper, and whatever asshole had dared to write his number on it, into shreds.

‘He _did_ give me her address!’ Dirk enthuses from Todd’s side where he’s been reading over his shoulder, Todd not even having noticed him appearing past the roaring of blood in his ears. It’s like a punch in the stomach as he stares down at the receipt in his hands, a horrible combination of shock, rage and desolation seeming to dull the world around him. It’s choking him, aching in every bone in his body, anguish curdling in his chest; he suddenly feels like he’s drowning on dry land, and he doesn’t even understand why.

He makes an effort to pull himself together enough to form a response.

‘I guess hyperactive, British eccentricity can occasionally get you places,’ he comments, and his voice sounds strangled and distant to his ears, like it doesn’t belong to him. The feelings he has barely allowed himself to put a name to are suddenly so obvious, so transparent, that it’s like a knife twisting in his gut, overwhelming him so much he can barely breathe. Jealousy. Frustration. Longing. Self-loathing.

‘Anywhere I need to go, actually,’ Dirk says smugly, and it’s painfully apparent that he’s completely oblivious to Todd’s crisis. ‘Come on, let’s go and poke around!’

Todd vaguely registers him heading off around the side of the van and attempts to stagger forwards to follow as he disappears, before he finds that he no longer seems to be in control of his legs. The tub of ice cream slips from his grasp and splatters across the ground as the pain exploding in his stomach intensifies, blossoming under his skin like a rose, and he presses his hands to his midriff, feeling something hot and wet, before he realises that they come away dripping with blood.

He drops, knees hitting the hard ground, and stares down in horror and panic at the deep, gaping wound tearing through his stomach, the dark blood soaking into his shirt, air filled with the dizzying, metallic scent. He tries to gasp in a breath but the air won’t come, and all he can do is choke on the nausea and hot blood filling his throat with every second, coughing up liquid that spills over his lips and spatters red droplets on the ground in front of him, and he _knows_ it isn’t real, that it’s all in his head, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel like he’s dying.

Distantly, he is aware of Dirk shouting out his name over and over, yelling something about pills so loudly that his voice sounds hoarse, hands roughly, urgently, digging their way through the pockets of his jeans, and the pain is excruciating, it’s agonising, and Todd curls in on himself, unable to breathe through the awful taste of his own blood.

Just when he’s sure he can’t take another second, that he’s going to bleed to death out here in the dust with no one but Dirk by his side, something small and hard is being forced into his mouth, a pill that he manages to desperately choke down, chest burning with the need to breathe, and he coughs and retches and heaves with the agony wracking his body, willing himself not to vomit all over himself and risk relinquishing the medication he’s struggling to keep in his wretched stomach, the feeling of hot palms on the sides of his face more visceral now, the blurred vision of Dirk’s blue eyes, cheeks streaked with terrified tears, swimming vaguely into view.

The agony in his stomach dulls very slightly, his shuddering breaths coming a little easier, the blood that soaks through his clothes beginning to dry and dissipate as the hallucination slowly eases him back into reality. The searing, metallic scent burning in his nostrils remains long after it’s over.

Dirk stays kneeling down in front of him for a long time, holding his face in his hands, until the pain has receded, eyes wide with horror as Todd continues to cough and gasp in an attempt to steady his breathing.

‘It’s okay,’ Todd pants. ‘It’s okay, I’m okay.’

Dirk gazes at him with eyes full of tears, before folding him tightly into his arms. Todd leans gratefully into him, the familiar, bone-deep exhaustion that usually follows an attack starting to set in, and he wraps his arms around Dirk as they both try to catch their breath, reassuring themselves as much as each other.

They stay like that for a long while, until Todd has stopped shaking and feels strong enough to get unsteadily to his feet, pulling Dirk up with him. The desolation in his eyes is almost too much to bear.

‘Are you okay?’ he asks worriedly, and Todd closes his eyes and nods. He doesn’t quite trust himself to shift his weight from leaning against Dirk quite yet, but Dirk seems more than happy to support him, snaking an arm around the small of his back to gently give him the help he needs.

‘Come on,’ he says softly, holding Todd steady as he tries to think past the cotton wool in his brain that dulls every sensation, ‘let’s get you back in the van.’

Dirk helps Todd into the passenger seat and hops in behind the wheel. Though Todd would be arguing over who was better placed to be in the driver’s seat if he weren’t so utterly exhausted, he finds that Dirk’s driving is blessedly, touchingly careful, as if he is putting in extra effort to take care of his invalided passenger. Todd has never felt more grateful in his life.

By the time Dirk has pulled up outside a gas station, promising Todd that he’ll be back as quickly as he can before filling up the tank and trudging off towards the store for water and food, Todd is feeling marginally less weak and very much more able to climb out of the van and call his sister on Dirk’s cell phone. He leans heavily against the van door as he scrolls through Dirk’s phonebook to find her number.

She answers the call just before it rings out, the line crackling to life accompanied by a cacophony of the voices of the rest of the Rowdies as they hold a conversation five times louder than what Todd would consider socially acceptable. He can feel a headache coming on.

‘Hey, Dirk!’ Amanda greets him over the racket. ‘What’s up? Hang on, I’ll go outside…’

‘Uh, it’s Todd, actually,’ he grimaces apologetically as the noise on Amanda’s end of the phone slowly subsides with her leaving the van. ‘My phone died.’

‘It’s cool,’ Amanda replies, the yelling of the Rowdies softening and her voice back to a normal volume, and Todd is struck with gratitude at the fragile peace that the two of them have struck up since Wendimoor. ‘How’s it going, bro?’

‘Good, I guess. We’re in New Mexico.’

‘Oh, sweet! We’re in Texas beating up racists.’

Todd raises an eyebrow. ‘You know, I’m usually not a fan of you getting mixed up in all the Rowdy shit, but, honestly? That sounds worth it.’

‘Totally. Was there a reason you called?’

‘Yeah, actually. So, uh. You know your... witchy thing? Can you, like, offer any insight on that?’

Amanda snorts. ‘Dude, that is the vaguest question you’ve ever asked me, and that’s including that one time you asked what it meant if you thought a guy was “kinda pretty”.’

‘Hey,’ Todd complains, heat rising in his cheeks with embarrassment, ‘I was young and confused, okay?’

‘You were thirty-two. Come on, what’s this about?’

‘Uh, okay. So, we’re in this little town where everyone’s crazy superstitious and this woman has gone missing, and we’re working on the basis that she’s been kidnapped by her creepy mom who was thrown out of town eighteen years ago on suspicion of witchcraft and now lives somewhere out in the desert. Abducting people. And cats.’

‘And you’re trying to find her?’ Amanda guesses. ‘Man, that is so cool. Is she... y’know. A _me_ witch? A Wendimoor-pararibulitis-universe witch?’

‘I dunno,’ Todd replies honestly. ‘I don’t think so. Amanda, if you were in her shoes... if you could disappear and take anything with you, and someone was trying to persuade you to give it back... what would you most want?’

Amanda contemplates this quietly for a moment. ‘I mean… if I was ostracised and feared and alone, like she seems to be? Then, honestly… I think I’d probably just want a friend.’

Of course. Because something tangible would be way, way too easy. Todd rubs a hand over his eyes in frustration.

‘Great. So, the plan is to yell nice things at her and hope she appears out of thin air.’

‘Congratulations, Todd. You’re finally getting the hang of this “compassion” thing.’

Todd ignores the jibe in favour of letting out a heavy sigh and scuffing his feet in the dirt with discontentment.

‘I guess that could be it. Maybe. God, this case feels like it’s going nowhere.’

‘Are you okay?’

Todd figures he might as well be honest. That’s his whole deal now, after all.

‘Yeah, I... I just… had an attack earlier and I’m kinda tired.’

‘Shit, I’m sorry,’ Amanda groans, and she sounds like she genuinely means it. ‘Are you doing okay? Do you know what triggered it?’

‘Uh,’ Todd’s brain helpfully reminds him of the flash of angry, gut-wrenching jealousy that had taken over his senses, the kick in the stomach that had turned into a gaping wound, and squirms uncomfortably. ‘Not really. Just sorta… emotional stuff?’

‘Uh huh. Did it have anything to do with you and Dirk?’

Todd’s blood runs cold, his stomach flipping with embarrassment as he realises immediately that _she knows_ , that his secret is well and truly out, that he doesn’t know why he’d thought he’d be safe from the unnerving perceptiveness that has increased tenfold in his sister since the reveal of his ultimate lie. He can see Dirk chatting to the cashier through the store window, gathering up a jumble of objects in his arms and waving goodbye.

‘What do you…? What are you talking about?’

‘I’m not an idiot, Todd,’ Amanda tells him flatly. ‘Can you just get over your self-loathing complex and make out with him, already? It’ll put us all out of our misery.’

In panic, Todd watches as Dirk emerges from the store and starts making his way between the gas pumps towards Todd and the van.

‘I-I have to go.’

Amanda yells loudly down the line as Todd fumbles to hang up: ‘Tell him you wanna suck his-’

‘Hey, Dirk,’ Todd greets the man approaching him in a peculiarly high-pitched voice, jamming the phone in his pocket and desperately willing away the heat in his cheeks. Thankfully, Dirk doesn’t seem to have noticed a thing.

‘Todd, look!’ he says excitedly as he holds up a pot-shaped contraption. ‘They had a _stove!_ I bought us pasta. This is going to be just like real camping!’

At the sight of his enraptured face, lit up like a kid at Christmas, Todd can’t help but smile despite himself. He is well and truly fucked.

***

They drive a little way out of town and into the desert to set up camp, where Dirk lovingly arranges his various spoils beside the stove, including several packets of brightly coloured sweets, coffee granules, a carton of eggs, a packet of plastic cutlery, a few cans of beer for Todd (for which he is extremely grateful), and a violently orange fizzy drink for himself that Todd doesn’t want to ask about. The two of them eat their pasta in near-silence, Todd’s due to exhaustion, and Dirk’s due to barely concealed worry. It would be kind of sweet if he weren’t seriously pissing Todd off by asking how he is every two minutes and, likewise, it would be a lot easier to relax and take his mind off the afternoon’s ordeal if Dirk weren’t continuously sneaking very obviously concerned glances at him over the stove.

‘Are you okay?’ he asks for the millionth time, and Todd glowers at him.

‘Dirk, I swear to god, if you don’t stop asking me-’

‘See?’ Dirk says unhappily, the melancholy in his eyes simultaneously infuriating and upsetting. ‘You’re being cranky because you’re tired. I wish you’d have let me cook.’

‘Boiling pasta isn’t cooking, and there’s no way I’d risk you setting fire to the van. We’re getting our deposit back even if it kills me.’

‘But Amanda said you need to _rest_ after attacks.’

Todd brandishes the can of beer in his hand. ‘Want this up your ass?’

‘Well, I usually prefer to be taken out to dinner first,’ Dirk replies haughtily as he gets to his feet, and Todd’s can practically feel his ears glow luminescent.

‘You’re the worst.’

‘But you love me.’

As Dirk disappears into the van to rummage around inside, Todd can’t help but realise with a start just how close he is to the truth with only those four short words, and the realisation momentarily takes his breath away. It’s an odd feeling, somehow both confusing and achingly clear, no longer coming as a shock, nor as terrifying and world-ending as it might have been even a few days before. It’s a curious kind of swoop in his stomach, a flutter in his chest, the sweet, pleasant taste of understanding. It’s huge and it’s trivial at the same time, paralysing and comforting, the world turning upside down and, at the same time, finally making sense.

Todd twists himself around to look up at Dirk as he reappears from the van, soft and familiar with his crooked smile and ridiculous bumble bee tie, this man who had once threatened him with a karate chop before hurling himself over the breakfast bar, who regularly takes Farah for manicures, whose idea of a balanced diet is a jelly bean sandwich, and it suddenly feels as if something has clicked into place.

‘Well, we seem to have a great deal less cat than we did this morning,’ Dirk remarks as he plops something small and fluffy onto the ground from where it’s been cradled in his arms, and Todd is brought out of his reverie to stare down at the furry object beside him: the hovering head of Gusty, bobbing jauntily as it floats over in his direction. Todd shakes his head at it, incredulous.

‘I wish I could say this is the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen.’

‘Tush. What would be the fun in that?’

Gusty sniffs delicately at Todd’s hand where it hangs over his knee, and he hesitates for a moment before grudgingly scratching him between the ears. The fur on the top of his head is soft and sleek and surprisingly pleasant to the touch, and Gusty purrs approvingly. Dirk claps his hands together with excitement.

‘I _knew_ you liked him really!’

‘Shut up.’

Dirk isn’t letting it go. He points an accusatory finger at Todd, smugness shining gleefully all over his face.

‘Nope, you can’t deny it now: Todd Brotzman likes plaid shirts, screechy guitar music, and cats.’

Todd scoffs. ‘Okay, you are in no position to disrespect my taste in music, like you don’t listen to those awful British girl bands.’

Dirk gasps in mock outrage, touching a hand dramatically to his chest in a way that makes Todd’s chest feel like it might burst with the sweetness of his flamboyance.

‘The Spice Girls were the _epitome_ of mid-nineties girl power, Todd. It was practically a movement!’

‘They’re terrible!’

‘You are _vastly_ underestimating the cultural significance-’

‘Their music is cheesy, it’s uninspired, it’s the kind of let’s-hold-hands-and-sing-around-the-campfire bullshit that...’

He regrets it as soon as the words come out of his mouth, Dirk’s eyes growing wide with excitement, and this is absolutely, categorically, _not_ something Todd is going to be engaging in, tonight or ever. He holds up a serious finger. ‘No. Don’t you dare.’

‘But-’

‘No, we’re not… no.’

‘But you’re a singer, Todd!’ Dirk whines. ‘Sing to the campfire!’

‘First of all, that’s a stove, not a campfire.’

Dirk gasps melodramatically, spreading his hands in wonder at whatever epiphany he is about to reveal, and Todd braces himself. ‘Oh my god, we can call ourselves, “The New Mexican Funeral”! It’s a pun, get it?’

Before Todd can flatly respond that, yes, he did get it, he is cut off by Dirk grabbing the beer out of his hand too fast for him to protest.

‘Hey!’

‘Come on, what about that noisy song you’re always playing in your apartment?’ Dirk lifts the can to his lips and, to Todd’s bafflement, starts to sing loudly and unselfconsciously into it as if it were a microphone: ‘ _Wooooah, we’re halfway there, wooooah, lizard on a prayer-_ ’

Todd can’t stop the laughter that bubbles out of him before he can pretend to be grouchy about having his drink swiped.

‘Dirk, it’s _“living”!_ It’s _“living on a prayer”!_ ’

Dirk corrects himself without missing a beat, unembarrassed, as Todd quickly gets to his feet beside him. ‘ _Living on a prayer_ … um. Something, something-’

Todd snatches back his beer and counters by singing the next line. ‘ _Take my hand, we’ll make it, I swear_ -’

Dirk’s voice loudly joins his own: ‘ _Wooooah, living on a prayer!_ ’

Beaming with delight, Dirk flaps his hands in excitement.

‘Ooh, what about, what about: _Ohhhhhh, sweet pile of swine_ -’

Todd dissolves into laughter despite himself, caught unaware by how utterly hilarious Dirk looks with his arms thrown into the air, singing at the top of his lungs.

‘Oh my god, Dirk…’

He doesn’t know quite how it happens, but then Dirk is singing, ‘ _I don’t want anybody else, when I think about you I punch myself_ ,’ and suddenly it’s descended into Kesha, and Todd quickly discovers that he is physically unable to listen to an incorrect song lyric without itching to put it right, and, before he knows it, they’re singing along loudly and badly to _Pokerface_ , and Todd couldn’t explain how it happened if his life depended on it. Going by the mischievous twinkle in his eye, he suspects that Dirk is fully aware of the correct lyrics to the majority of their numbers and similarly cognizant of Todd’s indomitable need to sing just to correct him, and that he is therefore now doing it on purpose. But it’s peaceful and dark in the endless desert, and they’re alone out here, so totally, beautifully alone, and Dirk is subtly sunburnt on his nose and cheekbones, dusted with a dull, pink glow that sets off his freckles, and the warm light of the stove dances and flickers across his face, and Todd can’t bring himself to mind.

Much later, when they finally head back into the van to get some rest, Todd is filled with a kind of joy that he hasn’t felt in a very long time.


	7. You're Not Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When snooping around Sephy’s abandoned house, Todd and Dirk come across a familiar face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is gay and I am PUMPED. No warnings other than for a brief mention of cannabis usage and the appearance of a knife, which is not used. I’m so in love with these two sweethearts.

When daybreak sees the first signs of light creeping through the windows of the van, Todd coaxes Dirk out of his blanket cocoon and towards the toolbox under the driver’s seat to search for instruments suitable for a spot of breaking and entering. The air is still cool from the overhang of night, the sun barely lighting the sky as Todd slips into his jeans and passes a yawning Dirk the gummy bears.

They search for Gusty for twenty minutes straight before finally accepting that he has, by now, completely disappeared. Todd is pretty certain this doesn’t bode well for getting him back to Melinda.

It’s a short drive to the address scribbled on the back of the ice cream receipt from the day before, to the quiet street that accommodates the small, muddy-coloured, abandoned building that was once Sephy’s home. Todd peers out at it in trepidation as he slows the van to a halt on the kerb outside.

‘This is it,’ he murmurs, and Dirk follows his gaze with a determined expression on his face.

‘Windows first?’

‘Windows first.’

Dirk climbs out of the van and Todd follows suit, grabbing the pair of pliers he’d picked out from the toolbox and trying to pretend he isn’t ever-so-slightly turned on by the sight of Dirk sporting rolled-up shirt sleeves and a wrench.

It’s still early and the street is tranquil and quiet, like the very buildings are sound asleep. They tiptoe all the same.

Todd creeps around one side of the house to where a small window is placed just a little too high for him to climb through unaided, and curses under his breath.

‘Dirk?’ he mutters, as Dirk noses around the next corner in search of another entrance. ‘I think we’re gonna have to smash this with the wrench. Dirk?’

Dirk doesn’t answer. Irritated, Todd places his hands experimentally on the windowsill, which is about the height of his shoulders. He’ll need to break the glass, if he can just haul himself…

‘Dirk!’ he grunts, legs swinging as he tries to gain hold with the soles of his shoes. ‘Dirk, give me a boost!’

‘Hush, Todd!’ Dirk’s irked whisper drifts from around the corner of the house. ‘Come and look at this!’

Todd lets his feet touch back down onto the ground and lets go of the windowsill with a disgruntled huff. He trudges around to the back of the house, to find Dirk standing with his palm against the backdoor, which, Todd realises with a start, is very slightly ajar.

Dirk gently pushes the door so that it creaks slowly open before them, and turns to Todd with an enthusiastic grin that Todd is less than inclined to return.

‘Come on!’ Dirk whispers, and Todd reaches out to seize hold of his forearm before he can waltz mindlessly inside.

‘Dirk, wait! There could be someone in there. What if it’s her?’

‘Than maybe we’re supposed to meet her.’

Eyes lit up with excitement, Dirk slips through the door and into the house, Todd following behind him in panic.

‘Dirk!’ he hisses urgently. ‘Hey-’

Before he’s even considered how fucked up his own instincts must be at this point, Todd grabs hold of Dirk’s shoulder and manoeuvres himself around so that he’s the one in front, shielding Dirk from whatever’s inside. Todd glares at him.

‘Stay behind me, and stay close, okay?’

Dirk looks a little flustered, even in the dark of the unlit house. ‘Goodness, you can be rather dashing sometimes, did you know that?’

Todd feels his own ears heat up, more than slightly flustered himself.

‘ _Shh!_ ’

They creep silently through the back room, dark and dingy with the faintly musty smell of a dwelling uninhabited for several years, Dirk hot on Todd’s heels and his warm breath tickling the back of his neck. Todd steps slowly, carefully, gripping the pliers tightly in one fist, with nothing but the sound of his own and Dirk’s breathing to distract him from his own thudding fear.

The door to the right of them slams open in an instant, prompting Todd to leap around in terror and drop his pliers, and Dirk to yelp and trip over his own feet, going sprawling to the floor. Standing in the doorway is a young woman wielding a kitchen knife in her white-knuckled hands, with wide eyes and very short, very blue hair.

‘Argh!’ Todd yells in eloquent fright at the point of the blade where it’s positioned alarmingly close to his chest. The woman stares between him and Dirk in horror.

‘ _You!_ ’

‘Us?’ Dirk squeaks from the floor, and something suddenly clicks into place.

‘You’re the girl from the motel!’ Todd yells, and she stares back at him with huge, terrified eyes.

‘The girl you threatened with Sephy’s mutant, possessed witch’s cat? Uh, yeah!’

‘Wait,’ Dirk gasps. ‘Gusty was _Sephy’s_ cat?’

Todd is just about ready to start flipping shit.

‘Can people please stop accusing us of being witches? Because we’re _so not!_ ’ He throws out a hand to gesture wildly at Dirk. ‘He’s just a psychic!’

Dirk looks put out. ‘Well, I prefer “psychosassic clairvoyant”, but I’m admittedly more of a psychic than I am a witch.’

‘Where is she?’ the girl asks, voice shaking, but her hands still steadily holding the knife. ‘You’re working with her, I know you are!’

Todd raises his arms in what he hopes is a non-threatening way. ‘We’re not working with anyone, I swear.’

‘Then what the hell are you doing here?’

‘We’re looking for Sephy!’

There’s a short silence. The woman slowly lowers the knife, vague distrust replacing her previous expression of absolute blind terror, and Dirk is finally able to scramble to his feet without fear of imminent death.

‘You don’t have her?’ she asks warily.

‘No,’ Todd promises. ‘We want to help her father get her back. Why are _you_ here?’

The woman meets his eyes uncertainly. ‘She’s my sister.’

‘ _You’re_ the other Prefect girl!’ Dirk exclaims, and she turns her face towards him.

‘Yeah. And I’d given up on her ever being found. If she’s really been taken by our mother, anything could have happened to her. But when I saw you at the motel with the cat…’

‘The same thing happened to her, didn’t it?’ Dirk asks excitedly. ‘That’s what your dad said. She started disappearing, bit by bit, until there was nothing left.’

‘She took her,’ the woman whispers. ‘It’s what she does. She takes everything. Look at this place.’

Todd obligingly peers around the room and into the kitchen from which the girl had sprung only moments ago, seeing Dirk do the same out of the corner of his eye, and notices for the first time how bare it is inside: no appliances, no utensils hanging on the rack, a circular mark on the wall where a clock might once have been hung. It begs the question whether, for some reason, the blue-hair girl had brought her own knife along just in case.

The woman gestures around her. ‘So much in here has just disappeared, and the police couldn’t find a single lead. No fingerprints, not one shred of evidence.’

‘How?’ Todd frowns. ‘Breaking into someone’s house and leaving no evidence behind whatsoever? That’s got to be super hard, right?’

‘She must have been an _expert cat-napper_ ,’ Dirk gasps. Todd does his best not to glare at him.

‘Yeah, so, why _do_ you have her cat?’ the woman raises her eyebrows, and Todd adopts a sheepish expression.

‘He’s owned by someone in Seattle now. I mean, he _was_ , but he actually disappeared completely this morning, so…’

She narrows her eyes at him suspiciously. ‘Huh. Dad sold him when Sephy never came home and he couldn’t afford to keep him anymore ‘cause he’d spent all his money on shitty private detectives. Kinda weird coincidence that he ended up finding you.’

‘Oh, I live and breathe weird coincidence, and I am without a doubt a shitty private detective,’ Dirk says cheerfully. ‘Lovely to meet you again, Ms Prefect.’

‘It’s Mandi. And you guys are crazy.’

‘I can’t actually argue with that,’ Dirk admits, and Todd attempts to inject something a little more productive into the conversation.

‘Look, Mandi, I know it’s weird, okay? But we’re gonna solve this case. We’re gonna rescue your sister.’

Mandi folds her arms challengingly. ‘How?’

Dirk waves an airy hand. ‘It’s a _very_ theoretically and philosophically complex method of holisticism that is so entirely beyond the normal realm of human understanding-’

‘That’s literally not true at all,’ Todd cuts in. ‘We’re just gonna get back in our van and keep driving until we find her.’

‘That sounds dumb as shit,’ Mandi says flatly, and Todd is just about inclined to agree before he notices that her jaw is set in a determined manner, that her fists are clenched as if she has finally fallen victim to the desperation, or perhaps the resolve, that Todd has seen grow out of adversity time and time again. ‘You do realise I’m gonna have to come with you?’

Todd turns to look at Dirk, who shrugs.

‘The more the merrier. You’re in.’

The three of them make quick work of searching the rest of the house, finding not only very little of interest, but very little of _anything_ , before giving up and piling back into the van with more enthusiasm than Todd had ever thought himself capable. He is painfully aware of Mandi’s hesitation despite her bold exterior, a walking contradiction, her face conflicted with the combination of stubbornness and fear that he has come to recognise as the base emotional state of those involved in most of their cases. She doesn’t back out, though, doesn’t turn around and run, and climbs cautiously into the back of the van behind Dirk and Todd where they sit in the front seats. She’s quiet for the first hour or so of driving, still staring broodingly out of the window every time Todd sneaks a glance at her in the rear-view mirror.

‘Is she okay?’ he quietly asks Dirk at one point. He chews at his lip in concern.

‘I don’t know.’

They get through two of Dirk’s CDs before Todd flatly refuses to listen to a third and elects to play some classic rock instead, finding himself easily slipping into the swing of driving once again. He follows Dirk’s hunches on the few occasions when they actually reach a crossroad along the long, snaking path that cuts through the vast desert landscape. The sun rises lazily overhead, gently heating the body of the van, before starting to drift lower again into the afternoon. Dirk chatters excitedly, and starts enthusiastically on a packet of strawberry shoelaces. Todd, to his surprise, finds himself wishing that this could last forever.

At the opening bars of _Living on a Prayer_ , Todd grins over at Dirk with the mischief of a shared joke, and Dirk lets out a laugh as soon as he recognises the song. He wriggles his shoulders sloppily, out of time with the beat, and sings almost under his breath.

‘ _Tommy used to work in a shop_ -’

‘Oh my god,’ Todd snorts with laughter. ‘You _know_ the words, you asshole.’

He barely hears Mandi’s voice behind him, distracted by Dirk’s ridiculous dancing, softly singing the next line to herself.

‘You like Bon Jovi?’ Todd asks, twisting around in his seat to glance back at her. She shrugs self-consciously, as if not realising she’d murmured the lyrics out loud.

‘Who doesn’t?’

Todd jerks his thumb over at Dirk, who gives him an affronted look.

‘Excuse you, I like John Bovine as much as the next person, but I wouldn’t be the quintessentially British homosexual that I, in fact, am if I didn’t infinitely prefer the dulcet tones of Girls Aloud. Ooh, let’s stop at that gas station! Hey, Mandi, do you like frappuccinos?’

Todd pulls up at the nearby pit stop, and allows Dirk to buy him a luridly bright iced drink with whipped cream on top, just because he knows it’ll make him smile. It’s one of the only real reasons behind most instances of Todd indulging Dirk’s various whims, but it’s not as if Todd’s going to be admitting that out loud any time soon.

Mandi also grudgingly accepts an iced coffee, and deigns to perch beside them on the wall outside as they sip their drinks together in a row. It’s weirdly nice.

‘So what’s with all the holistic stuff, anyway?’ Mandi asks eventually. ‘Isn’t that, like, all to do with natural healing and shit?’

‘Oh, no,’ Dirk answers. ‘It relates to my belief in the fundamental interconnectedness of all things. I can sense connections, you see, which allow me to follow the threads of the universe in order to solve mysteries. It’s all very exciting.’

Mandi’s eyebrows are furrowed dubiously, wariness sharp in her eyes.

‘And you expect me to believe you’re not a witch?’

Dirk considers. ‘Honestly, being a witch sounds like it would be much better. At least then I could actually have magical powers I could control and _do_ something with rather than being bossed around by the concept of existence itself.’

‘Yeah, he’s too useless to be a witch,’ Todd chips in, and Dirk gives a solemn nod.

‘I am. We do have a friend who’s a witch, though.’

‘Maybe not the best time to mention that right now, Dirk.’

They drive through the gentle afternoon and out the other side into the cooling dusk, Todd attempting to offer Mandi subtle comfort by playing soft rock music at a low, humming volume through the van’s speaker system. Dirk finishes his strawberry shoelaces. The evening curls in through the cracks.

It’s late by the time they’ve pulled a little way off the road and set up the stove, Todd allowing Dirk to cook the pasta under eagle-eyed supervision, and gratefully consuming the surprisingly edible result. Mandi is silent while she eats, and disappears around the back of the van and out of sight as soon as she’s finished. Todd catches Dirk’s eye uncomfortably, where he sits wearing his yellow blanket like a shawl around his shoulders and looking nonplussed.

There’s a light breeze fluttering through the gaping darkness, across the cool, rolling expanse of desert around their little oasis, and Todd is sure he must be able to walk from here right to the very end of the earth. He pops opens a beer and closes his eyes, enjoying the fizzing on his tongue and the gentle peace that has settled over the two of them as they lounge close to the flickering flames beneath the stove. Occasionally, he speaks. Occasionally, Dirk speaks. At one point, Dirk lies down on the hard ground and wriggles into his blanket, curling in on himself and allowing his breathing to slow to soft, regular snores that make Todd’s chest tighten.

He gives Mandi a little while to herself before making the executive decision to go and check on her. Picking up the last can of beer from underneath his backpack, where it lies unceremoniously trodden into the dust, he trudges around the side of the van.

Mandi is sitting perched in the open doorway, legs hanging down to the ground and a faraway expression on her face, one so lost, so vulnerable, so hopelessly _young_ , that it’s almost painful to look at. Todd clears his throat awkwardly to announce his presence so she won’t be taken by surprise, and she glances up at him for a mere second before looking away.

Todd stands awkwardly for a moment, unsure what to say. Eventually, he breaks the silence.

‘Is it short for “Amanda”?’

Mandi squints up at him.

‘Huh?’

‘Your name.’

‘Oh. Yeah.’

‘It’s my sister’s name. She’s probably not that much older than you.’ Todd holds out the beer towards her, a peace offering of sorts. ‘It’s, uh. It’s not been opened.’

After a moment’s hesitation, she slowly accepts, cracking it open and taking a swig. Todd considers it a small victory.

He gestures to the doorway of the van where she’s sitting. ‘Mind if I join you?’

Mandi gives him nothing but a nonchalant shrug, but scoots over to make room. It seems like invitation enough, so he sits stiffly down beside her.

He clears his throat again, and wishes he weren’t so utterly shit when it came to matters of emotion.

‘You’re welcome to sleep in the van, by the way. We’ll stay out here. Give you some privacy.’

She doesn’t respond. Todd shifts uncomfortably, his brain desperately trying to find a handful of useful, comforting words to fit together into a coherent sentence.

‘Are… you okay?’ it comes up with uselessly.

Mandi lets out a choked, slightly hysterical laugh.

“Okay”? I’m _great!_ I mean, I’m spending the night in a van in the middle of nowhere with two strange men I only just met, taking part in a literal witch hunt for my mother and kidnapped sister, and seriously regretting every single decision I’ve ever made, especially this one! Oh, _god_ ,’ she moans, putting her face in her hands, and Todd is a little alarmed by her outburst. ‘Why did I put myself in this situation? Why did I decide this was a good idea? _Just be brave and do the right thing, just for_ once _, Mandi, it’ll be fine!_ Stupid, stupid, _stupid!_ ’

‘O-okay,’ Todd offers stupidly, and almost winces. ‘H-hey, you know what? It’s... all gonna be fine. And, first of all, you don’t have to worry about me and Dirk being “strange men”. I mean, he’s a little strange, but I’m... I’m totally normal, sorta, and we’ve only ever been linked to... not that many suspicious deaths. Also, Dirk is literally harmless, aside from being, like, the human embodiment of a migraine.’

Mandi stares at him. ‘Great. Super reassuring. I’m totally convinced you’re not gonna _Silence of the Lambs_ me.’

‘Nah, too messy. We’d never get the deposit back on the van.’

The wry joke is out of his mouth before he’s able to stop it, and he takes a moment to be completely horrified at himself before Mandi lets out a laugh of surprised disbelief.

‘Did you mean to say that?’

‘Uh. No,’ Todd replies truthfully. ‘Look, Mandi, we’re not going to hurt you, I swear. I know that doesn't really mean a lot coming from me, but you... you can trust us to try and do right by you, and... god. I’m so sorry about all this. It must be awful for you. But I promise you, we really do just wanna help.’

‘To be fair, you seem pretty polite for a serial killer.’

Todd is momentarily struck by the mental image of Bart, with her lion’s mane of hair matted with dried blood, swimmingly unpleasantly into view.

‘Oh, I’ve met serial killers and, believe me, their manners are _not_ the best.’

It elicits the ghost of a smile from Mandi, already looking better, and Todd is reminded forcibly of Amanda at the age of twenty-one, thirteen, eight, like it was yesterday. He feels a rush of affection and protectiveness towards Mandi. After all, he understands, in a sense, what it's like to lose a sibling.

‘Where’s your sister now?’ she asks, as if reading his mind.

‘Uh. She lives in a broken-down van with four energy-sucking vampire punks and a rainbow monster from another world.’

‘Sweet. She single?’

‘Yeah, actually,’ Todd chuckles. ‘I’ll put in a good word. And… we’ll find Sephy, okay? I know all this weird crap can be kinda overwhelming at first and Dirk... Dirk doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing. But that’s kind of his thing. He’s never not solved a case. Though he does use some questionable methods.’

Mandi snorts.

‘Well,’ she admits, ‘out of all the people who could have been helping me, there’s something comforting about finding the weirdos.’

Todd grins. ‘Anytime.’

He holds out his can of beer towards her, and Mandi huffs a laugh before tapping it lightly with her own. After a moment, she pulls her feet up into the van, peering around at the interior.

‘I think I’m gonna get some sleep.’

Todd stands obligingly. ‘Sure. My blanket’s rolled up under the driver’s seat. It should keep you warm enough.’

He’s making to leave her in peace, when the sound of her voice has him turning back.

‘Hey, Todd?’ Her face is still nervous, still conflicted, but softer now. Todd waits expectantly. ‘Thanks.’

It’s touching, to share a moment of understanding with this young girl, barely an adult, beaten down and trodden under the uncaring, fatalistic boots of the universe. Todd thinks they might have more in common than she could ever know.

He nods in acknowledgement, in acceptance of her gratitude, and watches her turn into the depths of the van, closing the door behind her.

Todd wanders slowly back to where the fire beneath the stove is still flickering warmly, its glow illuminating the soft skin of Dirk’s face where he lies blinking blearily up at Todd as he approaches. He’s still wrapped in his yellow blanket with his hair sticking up on end, and Todd's heart aches with overwhelming fondness just looking at him.

‘How’s she doing?’

Todd shrugs. ‘Seems better. She’s got a lot on her mind.’

‘I’m not surprised. But we’ll solve it, like we always do.’

‘Like we always do,’ Todd echoes, just because it’s reassuring to hear it out loud. The heat of the day has cooled noticeably, seemingly even more so than the night before, now that they are drifting through September, and the dark quiet of the desert that stretches out for miles around them is vast and cold, and yet not unwelcoming. He sucks in a breath of the fresh air deep into his lungs, so much cleaner than the city smog he’s used to.

‘Todd, could you throw me my bag, please?’ Dirk points over at his sports bag where it lies on the ground near to Todd’s feet. He dutifully picks it up and tosses it over to Dirk, who, predictably, flails and misses before sheepishly picking it up from where it’s landed beside him. He digs inside, and pulls out a familiar-looking, navy blue _thing_.

Dirk wriggles into the old sweater and lies back on the ground, shuffling underneath his blanket once more, and Todd raises an eyebrow in amusement.

‘So _that’s_ what happened to my sweater.’

Dirk grimaces sheepishly. ‘It’s really soft.’

‘Hey, it’s cool. You, uh… you look good in it.’

Todd barely has time to wince at how awkward he’s managed to make what was supposed to be a casual compliment before Dirk is beaming with pleasure.

‘Thank you,’ he says happily.

They lapse into a not-uncomfortable silence while Todd seats himself on the ground beside where Dirk is lying back, arms behind his head, looking up at the velvety darkness above. Todd leans back to follow his gaze, and notices for the first time that the sky is lit up with a million swirling galaxies, endless, breathtaking, glimmering lights.

Eventually, Dirk breaks the silence.

‘The stars are so beautiful out here. How are they so much brighter than in Seattle?’

‘It’s the lack of light pollution this far out of town,’ Todd explains, and Dirk’s brow crinkles in confusion.

‘How can _light_ be a pollutant?’

‘It’s just a way of saying it makes it harder to see them. When there’s a ton of electrical light in built-up areas, it’s too bright to properly see what's up there.’

Dirk looks at him curiously, eyes bright and inquisitive, and Todd shrugs.

‘I took an astronomy class in college. This was back when I was planning on majoring in physics rather than bad indie music and pot.’

‘Ah, yes. Beacon of respectability that you were at that age.’

‘Totally.’

It takes a second for Todd to realise that Dirk’s teasing doesn’t sting like it might once have done, his asshole days so far behind him that they feel distant now, less awful and monstrous, like they happened to somebody else.

‘You’ve come a long way,’ Dirk says genuinely, and Todd is suddenly strangely touched.

‘Thanks, Dirk.’

The breeze picks up a little, whispering its chill along Todd’s skin, and he rubs ruefully at his arms. He sort of wishes he could get his sweater back from Dirk. Noticing the movement, Dirk lifts up the corner of the blanket, an invitation. Todd feels his heart skip a beat at the implications, at the utter gentleness and innocence in Dirk’s round eyes, at the kindness and compassion that he consistently shows, and hesitates for only a moment before slipping under the blanket beside him so that they are lying side-by-side. Todd can feel the warmth of Dirk’s body, smell the soft scent of peppermint and gummy sweets and _Dirk_ on his skin. It makes him feel a little dizzy. Dirk stares up at the stars, enamoured, while Todd watches, and for a second he is Icarus, the man never given a second to stay still and look up at the sky above him, always fighting against the natural flow of the universe, always pushing, always flying too close to the sun. He shines so bright it almost hurts to look at him.

‘Do you still know the constellations?’ he asks after a while.

‘Probably a few.’

Dirk turns his head to look over at Todd, his eyes shining with wonder. ‘Tell me about them.’

‘Uh,’ Todd exhales heavily, self-conscious and rusty in his knowledge. ‘Okay.’

He’s quiet for a moment, trying to choose a constellation that’s easy to pick out, that comes with a good story, that he likes. _Gemini, Ursa Major, Cassiopeia…_

‘You see… you see the one that’s kind of shaped like an hourglass? That’s Orion.’

‘Where?’

‘Right there,’ Todd points towards it. ‘Look for three super bright stars in a row, and that’s an asterism known as Orion’s Belt. It’s meant to look like a hunter with his arms above his head, see? He’s holding a club in one hand.’

‘Oh, yes, I see him!’ Dirk says excitedly, and Todd’s heart squeezes in his chest.

‘It was one of the first constellations to be catalogued, all the way back to carvings and cave paintings in prehistoric Europe.’

‘What’s the story behind it?’

‘It’s named after a hunter from Greek mythology. He boasted that he could kill every animal on earth, and the Earth Goddess, Gaia, got really pissed off and sent a scorpion to kill him. So, the other gods put him in the sky with all the animals he took from the earth, with the scorpion on the other side of the sky so it couldn't hurt him again. That’s said to be why Orion and Scorpius have actually never been seen in the sky at the same time.’

Dirk is staring at him in amazement and wonder.

‘ _Incredible_.’

‘Yeah,’ Todd has to agree. ‘Space is pretty awesome.’

‘I meant you,’ Dirk corrects him. ‘It’s incredible that you know all of that.’

Todd is flushing before he even knows it.

‘It’s not a big deal. I just studied it at school.’

‘It’s wonderful, Todd. You’re wonderful.’

A peaceful silence falls, and Todd is extremely grateful for the opportunity to try to pull himself together, ordering his swooping stomach in no uncertain terms to _get a fucking grip_.

‘I always missed the stars when I was in Blackwing,’ Dirk muses, and it’s not a complaint, not a commiseration, just a matter of fact, and it breaks Todd’s heart to hear the note of acceptance in his voice. ‘I’d have given anything to lie on the ground outside and stare up at them just like we are now. And then, when I got out, I was able to again, and I would take a blanket out into the park and just lie there and look up at them for hours. I found it comforting, somehow, like they were always sort of looking down and watching over me. Constant, protective. I think it made me feel less alone.’

Unable to bear it a second longer, Todd props himself up on one elbow to look down at Dirk.

‘You’re not alone anymore, Dirk, okay?’ he tells him firmly. ‘You’re never gonna have to be alone again. You’ve got me, and... and you’ll always have me.’

Dirk looks up at him gently, and the flames from the stove light up his face in a warm glow brighter than any star, and Todd can see every one of his golden eyelashes. He’s suddenly extremely aware of how close they are, of how fast his heart is racing, of how all he would have to do is lean down and…

‘Todd?’ Dirk says softly, almost a whisper, and Todd wants to give this man everything he has, everything he could ever ask for, and he would do it in a single heartbeat.

‘Yes?’

‘Can I kiss you?’

Todd inhales sharply, feeling lightheaded, overwhelmed, and he has never wanted anything more in his entire life, would never ask for anything else if he could have this, even just once. He gives a jerky nod.

A hundred years pass in the time it takes for Dirk’s lips to cautiously touch his own, feather-light, gentle, and he lets his eyes drift closed at the soft, warm pressure that could be nothing more than a ghost, until Dirk presses just a fraction closer, and then Todd’s hands come up to cup his jaw and they’re kissing properly, soft and deep and mingling warm, sweet breaths, his head so dizzy that he doesn’t think he’ll ever come back down to earth.

In his recent moments of weakness in the dead of night, when the temptation of imagining the taste of Dirk’s lips against his was too much to resist, he’d always thought he would be panicking and sweaty-palmed at this bit, too nervous and stressed out to get much further than the briefest of kisses. But, even though the blood is rushing so fast in his ears he thinks he might pass out, his mind is the calmest it’s ever been, the air cooled by the trailing fingers of night and the sound of the fire crackling beneath the stove. And in the intimacy of the fragile, breathless moments between kisses, when they stop to catch their breath, he can stare at Dirk bathed in the soft silver of moonlight and flickering flames, freckles scattered across the pale skin of his face in constellations infinitely more beautiful than any that could be found in the night sky, and there is so much honesty and care and gentleness in his eyes that it’s achingly beautiful, so overwhelmingly _right_ that Todd can almost feel the stream of creation running through them both, connected by their hands and mouths and souls, and he suddenly knows the answers to every question ever asked, knows all of the untold secrets of the desert stars, and, _oh, this is how Dirk’s hunches must feel_ because, deep in the depths of his soul, he knows that this place, right here, right now, is _exactly_ where he’s meant to be.

***

Todd is awoken the next morning by the lurid rays of sunlight peeking over the top of the van, and squeezes his eyes closed in discomfort, warm beneath the blanket and what feels like an electric heater half-draped across his torso. It takes him a moment to realise that the warm weight is Dirk, fast asleep and nestled into him, holding him close, and the night before rushes giddily back. Dirk is _here_ , here with _him_ , like _this_ , and it’s overwhelming and terrifying and beautiful all at the same time. He doesn’t know what will happen now, doesn’t know how this is going to go, but, with Dirk’s even breathing softly tickling his neck as he sleeps, he knows that he would take anything this man offered without a single thought.

He reaches over to softly brush a strand of hair from Dirk’s forehead, and he snuffles and stirs, burying his face closer into Todd’s neck and tightening his arms around him in disgruntlement. Todd can’t help but laugh softly.

‘Ngh,’ Dirk groans. ‘Early.’

‘Hey, big day ahead, remember?’

‘Maybe we could persuade the universe to let us have a _small_ day instead. We could just stay here. Would that really be too much to ask?’

‘There’ll be time for that,’ Todd promises, and the words are light on his tongue, warm with the realisation that this might never have to end, and he can’t quite believe how lucky he is. Dirk pulls back and looks up at him with so much hope in his eyes Todd can barely breathe. He shifts so that they’re lying face-to-face.

‘Do you mean that?’ he whispers, and Todd ducks his head.

‘I mean, we don’t have to talk about it now.’

‘Yes, conversations to be had after the case,’ Dirk agrees. He smiles at Todd as if they share the world’s most beautiful secret, dopey and sleepy, and it takes his breath away.

He averts his eyes, suddenly nervous.

‘Uh. Is it still okay to-’

‘Yes,’ Dirk nods hastily, and Todd lets out a fond, breathy laugh at his eagerness. He leans in and presses his lips gently to Dirk’s, hearing his breath hitch and tasting the warm mustiness of sleep on his tongue. Todd feels lightheaded, his toes curling, like his whole body is filled with bubbles, and is suddenly overwhelmed with the knowledge that he could get used to this, and that he really, really wants to.

He pulls away after a long moment, to see Dirk wearing a slightly dazed and flushed expression that makes him laugh again.

‘You’re going to be the death of me,’ Dirk tells him seriously.

Todd grins, and reluctantly extricates himself from Dirk’s warm grasp before heaving himself up to a seated position, earning him an unhappy noise of protest.

‘Come on. No allusions to death right before we meet the Wicked Witch of the Southwest.’

‘I’d rather meet a working shower,’ Dirk grumbles.

He just about manages to light the stove without setting himself on fire, and Todd boils some water to make himself a strong coffee before turning the pot upside-down in a slapdash attempt to fry some eggs on the flat surface. He burns the first two before getting the hang of it.

Mandi emerges from the van sniffing once the air is filled with cooking smells, as if summoned by the sound of sizzling on the stove, and they happily share around the eggs and a loaf of dry bread.

‘You got the runniness just right, Todd,’ Dirk tells him appreciatively, and Todd rolls his eyes in an attempt to pretend he isn’t flattered. Before he can protest, Dirk reaches over with a mischievous gleam in his eye to burst the yolks of both of Todd’s eggs with his fork.

‘Dirk-’ Todd complains, but Dirk just leans over to burst Mandi’s, too, to which she promptly retaliates by stealing one of his slices of bread.

It’s domestic and comfortable, the three of them eating together companionably while Dirk recounts some of the details of the Lydia Spring case to Mandi in a rather more chaotic and confusing way than it really needs to be told. Todd has to jump in a few times to clarify certain aspects when he’s getting ahead of himself and Mandi is screwing up her nose in incomprehension. It’s good. It’s more than good.

Todd is sipping his coffee contentedly when he meets Dirk’s eye over the stove, gazing at him with such fondness that he feels his heart skip a beat. He smiles back warmly over his cup.

‘Did you guys fuck?’ Mandi kills the moment stone-dead by asking bluntly, and Todd accidentally inhales his coffee. Dirk thumps him on the back while he chokes and splutters, and Mandi adopts an infuriatingly smug expression. Todd can’t bring himself to feel too annoyed.

Eventually, they pack up the stove and the rest of their belongings, and clamber back into the van to continue their journey, Todd in the driver’s seat. When Dirk tentatively rests a hand on his knee as they drive, the butterflies in his stomach beat their tiny wings, and he knows that, whatever this is, or was, or will be, they’ll have all the time in the world to figure it out together.


	8. Where The Lost Things Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s time to meet the wicked witch. Thank you for sticking with me right to the very end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for themes of loss and dealing with trauma. Thank you all so much for reading, you make it all worthwhile <3
> 
> Don't forget to check out the art!!

They drive, and drive, and drive, seemingly endless miles through the scrubland, along the dusty road to who-knows-where. They run out of new music, and have to circle back to the Spice Girls. Mandi finishes the jelly beans and offers them some facts about weird beetles. Dirk falls asleep against the window.

The sun rises, and sets.

They’ve been driving for most of the day by the time Todd starts to get restless, the dusk settling hazily around the sun where it hangs, blood-red and low in the sky. He searches for Mandi in the rear-view mirror, finding her staring dreamily out the window.

‘We should maybe stop for some rest soon,’ he suggests, and she turns to blink at him.

‘I’m down with that plan. We got any more food?’

‘Pasta,’ Todd shrugs. Beside him, Dirk inhales deeply, scrunching up his face as he is dragged out of sleep, and Todd can’t bring himself to feel too apologetic given how adorable it is.

‘Sorry,’ he grins. ‘Didn’t mean to wake you.’

‘S’alright,’ Dirk mumbles groggily, pulling himself up to a more vertical position and squinting at the light in a way that does funny things to Todd’s insides. ‘Where are we?’

‘Balls deep in the middle of nowhere. Wanna stop soon?’

‘Mm. Here is good. I could do with stretching my legs.’

Todd pulls over a little way from the road so they can all stumble out of the van and into the fresh, evening air. Todd steps onto the uneven ground, the bushes casting strange, gnarled shadow across the dirt, and is hit with the sudden creeping sensation that something feels… wrong. It prickles, itching at the back of his neck like the ghost of an electrical current, and Todd can’t hear the universe like Dirk can, but there’s a hum of discontent in the air that he’s sure he isn’t imagining, a low energy, or perhaps just his own feeling of foreboding, and he turns slowly around to find Dirk and Mandi behind him, mirroring the tense expression that he imagines himself to be wearing.

‘Dirk? Can you feel that?’

‘I feel it,’ Dirk murmurs. ‘I… I think this might be it.’

Mandi casts a nervous glance between the two of them.

‘Where is she? Dirk?’

Dirk looks Todd squarely in the eye, and his gaze is so unnaturally, sternly serious that a cold shiver of fear runs down Todd’s spine.

‘Stay back,’ Dirk warns and, before Todd can stop him, steps forward and away from him and Mandi, making his slow, cautious way out into the desert ahead. Todd feels panic rise in his throat.

‘Dirk…’

Dirk ignores him, taking a deep breath and glancing warily around at the vast landscape before speaking in an apprehensive but surprisingly steady voice.

‘Mrs Prefect? Mrs Prefect, my name is… is Dirk Gently, and this is my…’ He gestures vaguely behind him. ‘Todd. We’ve brought your daughter, Mandi, and we would very, very much appreciate it if you didn’t, um, attack us. We’re actually no strangers to magic, as it happens, and we don’t mean you any harm. But the universe brought us to you, and... Mrs Prefect, we’re looking for your daughter. For Sephy. Please, just... just tell us what happened to her. Her father just wants to know she’s safe.’

Todd’s heart is in this throat for what feels like a lifetime as they wait with baited breath for any indication that Catherine might be close by, anxiety setting his nerves alight and the blood hammering sickeningly through his veins. Suddenly, there is a noise from somewhere behind him, the soft sound of a single footstep, and his head snaps around towards the source in barely disguised terror.

Standing stock-still, lit by the glow of the setting sun, is a woman, fragile-looking and slight, with her dark hair pulled into a pair of loose braids that frame the crows’ feet of her face.

‘Mandi?’ she whispers.

Instinctively, Todd forces himself in front of the terrified young girl so that he stands between her and her mother, who watches him with a cool expression.

‘Don’t come any closer,’ he warns, assertiveness borne of the pure adrenaline coursing through his system.

‘I wouldn’t dare.’ Catherine’s eyes slide to where Mandi stands behind Todd’s shoulder, voice seductively soft. ‘It’s been a long time, baby.’

‘What have you done to Sephy?’ Todd snaps. She fixes her gaze back on him with a combination of confusion and defensiveness.

‘She came to me of her own volition. She came looking for me.’

Todd can barely breathe past the fear and burning anger pumping through his system. He is endlessly grateful when Dirk comes up beside him, hands raised placatingly.

‘Mrs Prefect, we don't want any trouble. Please, just give Sephy to us so we can take her home.’

‘I can’t do that,’ Catherine replies. ‘She’s moved on to another world, now.’

Todd hears Mandi’s breath catch brokenly behind him. He shares a startled look with Dirk, who turns to stare back at Catherine with horror in his eyes.

‘She’s… dead?’

‘No, not dead,’ Catherine frowns at him in shock. ‘But she’s no longer a part of this realm.’

Todd, hit with a sudden wave of righteous, angry disbelief, glares at her. ‘Then bring her back! Bring her back, or I swear to god-’

‘I have no power to bring her back,’ she protests, and Todd’s hackles only rise further.

‘What do you mean, you have no power? You’re a witch, aren’t you?’

‘No,’ she shakes her head vehemently, her eyes glinting with anger. ‘I’m not a witch. No matter what people may say about me, I’m not a witch and I never have been. I’m not magical. I’m not evil. I’m nothing but a… a leaf in the stream of creation.’

Todd feels his heart drop into his stomach. The words are so familiar that they seem to echo deafeningly in his head, and his eyes snap towards Dirk to see the exact moment his world is turned upside-down, his face falling slack and pale as if he’s just been punched in the gut.

‘What did you just say?’ he whispers. Catherine stares at him in stupefaction, realisation slowly dawning.

‘Are you…?

‘You’re a… you’re a subject,’ Dirk breathes.

‘ _Was_. I was.’

‘Who… who are you?’

‘They called me “Project Midas”. And you?’

Dirk’s eyes are wide with horror and shock, his voice barely audible when he gasps out the reply.

‘Icarus.’

Mandi suddenly speaks from Todd’s shoulder and makes him jump, as if he’s not already reeling, his mind buzzing with questions and misunderstandings. He’d almost forgotten she was there.

‘What are you talking about?’ she demands. ‘What do you mean, “Projects”?’

Dirk doesn’t take his eyes off Catherine. ‘We’re tools. Entities guided by the universe. I’m… I’m the one who find people.’

‘I’m the one who takes.’

‘“Takes”?’ Todd repeats sharply, and Catherine turns to him.

‘Takes away the things that aren’t needed, or that should never have been. Weapons. Machines. Anything that interferes with the natural flow of the universe. With living beings, it takes a lot longer for them to disappear, but it’s possible. Project Marzanna is the one truly responsible for the removal of humans.’

Dirk speaks under his breath, almost to himself. ‘ _Bart_.’

Too much is going on in Todd’s head to make sense, the questions and answers and confusions clamouring for attention, and he squeezes his eyes tightly closed as he tries desperately to understand.

‘So you took Sephy,’ he glowers at Catherine. ‘You took her away from her father and her sister, for what? To get one up on them?’

For the first time, Catherine’s face is emblazoned with pure pain, pure anguish, but Todd can’t bring himself to feel sorry for her, not after all this. Not after doing something so utterly selfish.

‘I didn’t have a choice.’

‘You _always_ have a choice,’ Todd snaps.

‘Mrs Prefect,’ Dirk tries, ‘where is she? How do we get her back?’

Catherine fixes Dirk with a troubled gaze, before taking a deep breath and letting her eyes flutter closed, raising a hand out in front of her. Todd braces himself in anticipation of the unknown, gripping Mandi’s arm to keep her close to him as Catherine waves her hand in a slow circle, fingers trailing across the darkening sky. Todd’s own fingers are digging into Mandi’s skin, when he notices a small, golden light glowing high above Catherine’s head.

The light drips slowly down from its source, spreading out and out and down to encase them all within steadily forming sheets of gold, and Dirk flits instinctively to Todd’s side as the three of them stand and stare in panic at the prospect of being trapped inside. Todd puts his hand protectively on Dirk’s arm as the light dribbles down to form walls around them, fear and adrenaline guiding every movement.

But with the gradual, gentle forming of the walls, comes a host of shapes: a large, square object hanging to Todd’s left, like a painting in a frame; the elegant curve of a floor lamp in one corner; the slow, languid spread of light into the abstract shape of a well-worn couch; a coffee table; a TV. The walls around them reach the ground, and Todd stares around them in awe and confusion at the interior of a flickering, glowing living room, a door to Dirk’s right that presumably leads to another room, the rest of a house. They stand, dumbstruck, in the centre of the room, where the faint outlines of the furniture glow and stutter around them like a mirage, a dream, every edge blurred as if it isn’t really there.

‘What is this place?’ Todd demands, and Catherine somehow looks older, more forlorn, when she graces him with a response.

‘It’s nowhere. A glitch in reality and unreality. It’s where the lost things go.’

Suddenly, Todd catches sight of the blurred shape of a figure standing on the far side of the room. She has long, dark hair, her features strikingly similar to Mandi’s, and she bends gracefully down as Todd watches, to pick up the familiar-looking cat, a cat that is _whole_ for the first time that he has ever seen it, winding around her ankles.

‘Sephy!’ Before Todd can stop her, Mandi has darted over to her sister, reaching out towards her desperately, trying to grab hold of her arm, touch her face, but the strange apparition of Sephy is flickering and blurred, and Mandi’s hands find nothing but air. Sephy opens her mouth, her lips forming Mandi’s name, but there is no sound to be heard.

‘She isn’t real,’ Catherine tells her softly. ‘None of this is real. All you can see is a glimpse of another world.’

Mandi turns on her mother, furious tears bright in her eyes.

‘Bring her back!’ she shouts, but Catherine just shakes her head sadly.

‘I can’t. She doesn’t belong to this reality anymore. She has been claimed by the universe.’

Todd feels the anger surging beneath his skin, feels Dirk lay his hand gently over where Todd’s fingers still press into the skin of his own arm, in an attempt to placate him. But Todd knows better than anyone that, sometimes, no amount of remorse can fix the shitty things that you’ve done.

‘How could you have done this to her?’ he glares at Catherine, incensed on Sephy’s behalf, riled by the sadness evident in Catherine’s eyes, as if regret alone is enough to necessitate forgiveness.

‘I told you, I didn’t choose this,’ Catherine snaps. ‘It used to be that I could remove only what I needed to from reality. But that changed.’

Dirk, his hand still covering Todd’s, frowns in confusion.

‘Sephy’s father said… you went away when your daughters were young. That when you came back, you were... different. You wouldn’t go near them.’

‘I lost the control I had over my abilities,’ Catherine confirms.

‘You came back eighteen years ago,’ Dirk says in an oddly hushed voice, and Todd turns to see his eyes wide as saucers. ‘It’s been eighteen years since…’

Catherine lifts her chin. ‘Since Blackwing.’

‘Oh,’ Dirk breathes. ‘Oh my god. They did something to you. Something that meant you couldn’t control it anymore.’

Todd feels his blood run cold. He is winded by the horrible realisation that this is a woman in pain, a person utterly destroyed by something in her past that she had no way of ever controlling. That his need to pin the blame on her may well have been completely misplaced, an awful, stupid mistake. That maybe, just maybe, he has got this all wrong.

Catherine speaks quietly, brokenly, and it breaks Todd’s heart. ‘They tortured me mercilessly. Every single day. Pain, suffering, that’s all I remember. And I refused to do anything they wanted. I refused to use my power on a single thing for those years I was there, even when the universe was screaming at me and I could barely resist. I would never, ever give them what they wanted. I wasn’t submitting to the universe, wasn’t performing my duties, and this was my punishment, the universe taking away my ability to choose. Everything I touch, every single thing, gone, dissolved into nothing. I couldn’t be near to people anymore. Everything I touched was gone. Things started going missing, and-’

‘-And that’s when the townspeople exiled you,’ Todd finishes softly. Catherine nods.

‘Yes.’

Dirk’s hand slips from atop Todd’s as he stares blankly in front of him, like he has forgotten that anyone else is around, and Todd watches him in concern.

‘The universe…’ he says hollowly, ‘it punished you for straying from its path, you... you were being tortured, and it took everything from you... your family, your home…’

‘I’d never do anything to hurt my daughter,’ Catherine swears, her eyes hollow with loss. ‘She came looking for me. After sixteen years, she came looking, and I made a terrible, terrible mistake. Just one moment, a moment of madness, when I stopped thinking, when I reached out to touch her, just once, and look at the price she’s had to pay. There was nothing I could do but try to make her feel comfortable, taking her belongings from her old house, her pet, so that she wouldn’t be so alone. But I took her life away, and I couldn’t give it back. When all I wanted to do was be able to hold my daughter again.’

Todd is stunned into silence, the injustice of it all cutting so deep that he can barely breathe, like dust settling into his lungs. After all this time searching for the fearsome witch who stole away an innocent girl, he’s dizzied by the heartbreaking reality: that this woman is a victim just as much as her daughter. Mandi’s face is wet with tears, Catherine meeting her eyes with so much pain, after so many long, lonely years, that Todd feels as though he’s intruding just by remaining in the room. It takes him a moment to realise that Dirk, who can usually be counted on to fill every possible uncomfortable silence with nonsense, has failed entirely to respond. He stands, frozen in shock and horror, staring blankly in front of him, so disturbingly colourless that he looks like he might pass out.

‘Dirk?’ Todd prompts. Dirk is snapped back to reality, his lips unnaturally pale, and swallows thickly.

‘I… I’m just going to go and… get some fresh air.’

Without wasting another second, Dirk turns on his heel and stumbles across the room, wrenching the door open and leaving it swinging behind him as he flees. The air falls still with an unbearable silence. Todd addresses Catherine and Mandi nervously.

‘Uh. We’ll be right back.’

Catching himself just as he makes to leave, the sickening guilt in his stomach forces him to turn back to them, awkwardly clearing his throat.

‘Hey, I’m… I’m really, _really_ sorry.’

Todd turns and rushes from the golden room and down the hallway, to follow Dirk outside and into the darkening night. The sun has set mellowly over the desert, leaving only a few remaining streaks of burning peach and orange brushed across the sky, and Todd allows his eyes to adjust to the darkness as he searches for the familiar figure.

‘Dirk?’ he calls, and is answered only by a muffled sound from behind him. Todd turns to find Dirk sitting by the flickering wall of the house, knees huddled to his chest, hunched over himself in desolation, and feels his heart pound in his chest with worry. He takes a careful step towards him.

‘Dirk?’ he says again, quietly, gently, and it’s enough for Dirk’s face to crumple into misery, his hands coming up to press balled fists to his eyes as he gasps for breath, shaking tears running down his face. Todd’s stomach drops. He slides to his knees beside him, taking Dirk’s curled body into his arms. Dirk’s hands come up to bunch in his shirt, gripping as if he can’t let go, as if trying to ground himself with something, anything that he can grab onto, and he sobs achingly into Todd’s shoulder as Todd holds him tightly, gently rocking him and rubbing slow circles over his back.

‘Shhh,’ he whispers softly, trying not to let the alarm bleed into his voice. ‘It’s okay, it’s okay.’

It’s, frankly, terrifying to see Dirk like this, to witness the sudden outburst of emotion that Todd supposes has been building for a long time and, in that way, probably makes complete sense. He has seen Dirk silently tear-streaked a million times before – after Todd has had a particularly brutal attack, when Todd had called him a monster within the first week of their meeting, one time when he had accidentally hit a cat with his car – but he’s always had the shutters firmly down in relation to Blackwing, grimly accepting it, sometimes wistful, sometimes making casual remarks as if it’s nothing at all. He has spoken a little about it before, Todd supposes, but never has he cried like this, never sobbed as if releasing the distress of a lifetime of torture and trauma, as if seeing it through someone else’s eyes, seeing first-hand how cruel the universe and those who dare exploit it can be through a person other than himself, makes it easier for him to contextualise it, to fully understand the horror of what he and the others have been through, to mourn the losses and pains of another as well as himself, and to finally, finally express it.

He lets Dirk cry for as long as he needs, holding him close, whispering to him, keeping him safe. It’s harrowing and terrible and painful, but it’s needed, Todd knows, and there is a small part of him that feels strangely, unhappily, glad.

Eventually, after what feels like a lifetime, Dirk’s sobs quieten to uneven breathing, and he pulls back to wipe his eyes with the heel of one hand, red-nosed and sniffling, and refusing to look Todd in the eye.

‘I’m so sorry, Todd. Gosh, how embarrassing, I’m being so silly-’

‘Hey,’ Todd cuts him off firmly, because never in a million years is he going to let Dirk feel ashamed about this. He wipes his thumbs gently under Dirk’s eyes, drying the tears, and speaks softly. ‘Don’t do that. Okay? No apologies.’

Dirk gives him a watery, but genuine, smile.

‘You okay?’ Todd asks. He nods, and sniffs.

‘I’m okay. I just… she’s been through so much, I don’t know how to fix it.’

‘You’ll figure it out, Dirk,’ Todd promises, letting his hand trail to the back of Dirk’s neck, rubbing it soothingly. ‘You always do. Maybe… maybe we should think about how far her powers go, whether we could exploit a weakness somehow. There’s gotta be a limit, right? We know she’s got a house. Can she take, like… trees? She can’t take the _ground_ , even though she obviously walks on it… Maybe there are certain things, certain people, that just can’t disappear?’

Dirk is staring at him in admiration, his lips slightly parted in a rather distracting way, as if Todd has just hung the stars rather than blabbered some useless nonsense with no discernible conclusion.

‘Oh my god. Todd, you’re a genius.’

Todd highly doubts it. Dirk gets to his feet, still a little wobbly, and pulls Todd up by the hand so that they’re standing side-by-side. His hair is out of place, a thin strand flopping down over his forehead, and Todd has no idea how long he’s been in love with this man, but he knows without a shadow of a doubt that it’s something he should have realised a long, long time ago.

‘Hey,’ he reaches over to push the strand of hair gently back into place. ‘Anytime.’

Dirk gives him a soft smile, before tugging him back into the house behind him, through the hall and back into the living room. Mandi, sitting on the couch across from her mother, turns to look at them as they enter.

Dirk takes a deep breath and visibly pulls himself together, and if the two women notice his red-rimmed eyes, they don’t comment.

‘Mrs Prefect,’ Dirk addresses her seriously, ‘We can’t apologise enough for our misunderstanding of the situation and our treatment of you. I’m truly, truly sorry that we assumed the worst. Please know that we only ever had the best interests of Sephy at heart, and acted only on the words of those we spoke to in Brujapuebo, but that is no excuse for our incorrect assumptions and prejudices-’

‘It’s okay, Mr Gently,’ Catherine cuts him off with a graceful nod. ‘I know how easy it is to turn to hatred when it comes from fear.’

Todd shuffles his feet awkwardly. ‘Uh. Me too. I know I already said, but I was super shitty to you and I shouldn’t have-’

‘It’s okay. Thank you. But I don’t want apologies. I want to save my daughter.’

‘Yes,’ Dirk takes a bold step forward. ‘Of course. And I think I might know a way to help.’

‘You can get her back?’ Mandi asks breathlessly, as Todd shoots him a questioning glance.

‘I don’t know. I have an idea, but I don’t know if it’ll work.’ Dirk takes a breath. ‘See, Todd mentioned that maybe there are certain things that your powers wouldn’t work against, meaning that we could find a way to exploit them and break the pattern. Certain _people_ , specifically.’

An inkling of understanding begins to form in Todd’s head, an awful, terrible idea, growing too slowly for him to protest before Catherine asks the question on his lips.

‘What do you mean, Mr Gently?’

‘I mean,’ Dirk continues delicately, ‘that the universe would be getting itself into a rather sticky situation if it allowed itself to extend your abilities to affect any of the other people it has designated as tools. I think that… I think that, maybe, I could be an exception.’

‘I see,’ Catherine frowns with incomprehension. ‘And what, based on that theory, do you think I should do?’

Dirk gives Catherine a small smile before holding both hands out towards her, wiggling his fingers.

‘Take my hand.’

Todd feels as if his stomach is filled with lead. He lurches forward to grab Dirk’s and yank him around to face him.

‘Dirk, what the hell?’ he hisses. ‘What are you thinking?’

Catherine is shaking her head adamantly, Mandi murmuring a litany of, ‘What the fuck? What the _fuck?_ ’ beneath Todd’s fierce words.

Dirk is unperturbed. ‘I’m a universal constant,’ he explains to the room at large. ‘I _have_ to exist. Don’t you see? Bart, Project Marzanna, she can’t kill me because our abilities _can’t conflict_. The universe can’t allow it, because it would mess everything up. If I was taken out of reality, the universe wouldn’t work anymore.’

‘And you’re certain of that?’ Catherine asks him. Dirk shrugs.

‘Well, no. But I might as well give it a go, right?’

‘Dirk,’ Todd glares at him, ‘don’t be an idiot. You have no way of knowing that would work. What if you’re wrong? What if you, like, disappear forever? What would I do then?’

His voice almost cracks on the last word, a revelation of his very worst fears, a barely noticeable change in intonation that he’s hoping Dirk might have missed because Dirk cannot know how reliant he is, how he can’t picture a life anymore that doesn’t have Dirk in it, how he doesn’t even want to try. By the faint smile that Dirk gives him in response, it seems like he’s already had that particular hope dashed.

He lifts a hand to brush his thumb gently across Todd’s cheek.

‘Oh, Todd,’ Dirk sighs, and Todd can barely breathe for the paralysing fear, every nerve in his body raw with a panic that’s choking him on unshed tears of desperation. ‘Haven’t you realised that you’re never getting rid of me?’

Swallowing past the lump in his throat, Todd doesn’t have time to register Dirk moving away from him before he’s gone, holding his hands out to Catherine. She looks him squarely in the eye.

‘Ready?’ she asks, and Dirk grins.

‘Always.’

Catherine reaches out towards him, slowly, shakily, and takes hold of his hands.

A shock of energy explodes from the two people in the centre of the room, ripping through the air and smacking full-force into Todd, left gasping at the sheer force of it, and there is a light, a blinding, gold light that emanates from their joined hands, so bright that Todd squeezes his eyes closed, shielding his face as he stumbles backwards, his back hitting something cold, and hard, and very, very solid.

When the flash of light dims after a mere second, the shockwave having taken all of the breath from Todd’s lungs, his eyes snap open to find Dirk flung across the floor and panting for breath, arms akimbo, and Todd’s legs take numbly him towards the man lying flat out across the ground, falling to his knees and gripping hold of him, finding with utter relief that he is still here, still _real_ , and only dimly aware of the three other people in the room shouting for joy.

‘Dirk!’ Todd yells, for no other reason than because he can, because Dirk is still here with him and he is beaming up at him in a mixture of happiness and exhaustion, and Todd is so overwhelmed he could cry.

‘Todd, _look_ ,’ Dirk whispers, and there are Catherine, and Mandi, and Sephy, all three of them only a few feet away, in a tangle of limbs and laughs and tears and cries of delight, all of them holding each other like they’ll never let go.

Todd watches them breathlessly, relief and elation bubbling in his chest, one hand still gripping Dirk’s jacket, and notices for the first time that there is a house around them, that there are pictures on the brightly coloured walls; that Gusty the Siamese cat is yowling along with the cries of happiness; that the couch is a truly ugly shade of brown; that Sephy’s hair shines golden when it catches the light. That Mandi’s smile when she is really, genuinely happy could make flowers grow. That Catherine couldn’t love anyone more than she loves her daughters. That this, right here, makes every mistake, every fear, every near-death experience Todd has ever faced, completely and utterly worth it.

***

Things become rather less dramatic after that, and everything seems to pass in a blur. The reunited family stay up talking until late into the night and, though Todd and Dirk make a tactful attempt to excuse themselves and slope off towards the van to allow them to some family time, Catherine refuses to let them leave without offering her hospitality. The two of them eventually fall sleep, tangled together on the ugly couch, and wake up to the smell of bacon on the stove early the next morning.

When everyone is up and ready, Todd hops into the van to drive all five of them – six, including Gusty – an hour into the next town. It’ll take a little time, a little thought, but it’s somewhere that Catherine could find a job, maybe, a house, a life in a community that remains unaware of the history and the rumours and the suspicion. She could set up camp in the motel on the outskirts for a few weeks, while she looks for a more permanent place of residence. It’s somewhere she could settle, could build a home for her daughters to visit. It’s a new start.

She shoos off Dirk and Todd relatively soon after they pitch up in town, after they’ve helped negotiate motel rooms for the three of them, and they grudgingly hug the three Prefects goodbye in preparation for getting back on the road for the last time.

‘Come back and visit, okay?’ Mandi bumps Todd’s fist with her own, grinning mischievously. ‘And give your sister my number.’

It’s a quiet drive back to the airport. Dirk is uncharacteristically subdued, lapsing into a silence that Todd assumes is borne of exhaustion after the week’s events. It’s strangely morose given the celebratory atmosphere of the night before, of the glee of another case solved, and Todd frowns over at him from the driver’s seat in concern.

‘You okay?’

Dirk gives a half-hearted shrug.

‘She’ll never be able to go home,’ he says despondently. ‘Not properly. Not back to where she grew up. She’s an outcast and she always will be.’

‘At least now she has her daughters back. She can see them whenever she wants.’

‘But we didn’t fix it. We made the situation marginally better, but she’ll always know that she can never go back, that everyone in her hometown hates her. We didn’t put it completely right.’

‘You couldn’t have done anything else, Dirk,’ Todd reasons fairly. ‘The universe-’

‘Yes,’ Dirk cuts him off with a bitter smile. ‘The universe.’

A silence falls, Dirk staring mournfully out of the window, and Todd isn’t sure how to tell him how much he’s done for them, how he’s made the best of a horrible situation and years of trauma that one person could never just fix with a click of his fingers. But he already knows that much, of course.

‘Do you think it was right that we left the cat?’ Dirk asks eventually. Todd shrugs.

‘It was Sephy’s cat to start with. Although Melinda’s probably gonna be pretty mad.’

‘We’re not going to get paid for this one, are we?’

‘I don’t think so, no,’ Todd grins. He falters for a second before addressing Dirk seriously. ‘Dirk, you did everything you could. You put things right. Now Catherine can be with her family again, and make a new life for herself. And she’s back in control of her powers. You used the universe’s own oversights to create a paradox so big you actually _broke_ its ability to punish her for trying to be normal. You have nothing to feel bad about, okay?’

Dirk hangs off every word that he speaks, laid bare, his forehead creased with aching vulnerability. He looks a little choked up.

‘Thank you, Todd.’ Dirk fiddles anxiously with the cuff of his shirt. ‘Do you think they’ll be okay?’

Todd reaches over the gearstick to gently thread his fingers through Dirk’s, stopping him from fiddling, and Dirk looks back at him with wide, childlike eyes, brimming with worry that Todd does his best to soothe with the stroke of his thumb across the back of his hand.

‘I think they already are.’

It seems to satisfy him. The short silence that falls before he speaks again is comfortable this time, his hand still held tightly in Todd’s, with the afternoon rays of sun dappled through the clouds above and the windows rolled down to let the breeze rush against their faces, and Todd is honestly, truly, happy.

‘If you could have anything in the world,’ Dirk muses, ‘even something that you knew you’d be depriving other people of if you had it, what would you want?’

Todd considers this for a while.

‘I’m not sure. A few years ago, I would have said money. But since then the things I most want haven’t been... tangible things that could be taken away from somebody else. I wanted purpose. You gave me that. Wellbeing, hope, happiness. For Amanda to get better. For you to want me in the way I wanted you, even though I barely even realised I did. Maybe now I don’t really need anything else.’

When he looks over, Dirk is visibly flustered, a dull pink tinging his cheeks.

‘Oh,’ he says, his voice strangely high-pitched. ‘Well. I mean, I was going to say a pizza tree, but that’s... a very good answer.’

Todd grins. ‘In that case, I’m gonna go with a super fancy coffee machine that never runs out of espresso.’

He says it because he knows it’s exactly the answer that Dirk is expecting from him. Dirk laughs, just like Todd knew he would, and the sound fills him with warmth and love and hope, like he suddenly knows that everything is going to be okay.

It’s beautiful. It’s everything.

‘Todd?’ Dirk asks delicately.

‘Yeah?’

‘Does this mean we’re… together now?’

Todd blinks, taken aback by the question. He hasn’t considered how they might go about this, not really, or what exactly Dirk might want from him. He knows very little about his romantic history, very little about Dirk’s opinions on dating and relationships, doesn’t know whether this is going to be an official _thing_ , whether either of them are even capable of that, whether he’d dare risking the friendship that’s brought more to his life than anything else he’s ever had, and suddenly he can’t breathe through the clouds of worries and questions in his head, at the fear that he doesn’t know what he’s doing here, and that this is the last relationship, friendship, anything-ship, that he would ever want to fuck up.

‘I-I, uh… I guess it’s up to… Do you _want_ us to be?’

Dirk rolls his eyes. ‘Well, I’d have thought that was fairly obvious from my flirting with you constantly.’

Todd stares at him.

‘Wait, what? You’ve been flirting with me?’

‘Todd, I’ve been flirting with you since the day we met!’ Dirk stares back in disbelief. ‘What kind of detective are you?’

‘The romantically oblivious kind, apparently!’

‘I should fire you on the spot.’

‘You wouldn’t.’

‘No, I wouldn’t, but only because you make a surprisingly decent cup of tea.’ Dirk’s eyes sparkle as he teases, and Todd can almost feel his worries and insecurities slowly seeping away into insignificance, because this is _Dirk_ , his best friend, his lifeline, the person who knows him better than anyone, and loves him anyway. ‘But, anyhow, regardless of how terrible a sleuth you are, and… well, if you feel the same way… I’d very much like to be your… together… person.’

Todd’s heart starts pounding again, but, this time, it’s not out of fear. It’s out of happiness and nerves and love, and the butterflies in his stomach are in a frenzy as he looks over at the man in the passenger’s seat, and knows that this is all he has ever needed, that it’s a risk he’s fully, wholly willing to take.

‘I’d like to be your together person, too,’ Todd says honestly, and Dirk beams like he’s forged of the sun itself.

Something niggles at the back of Todd’s mind, something he can’t quite shake: the knowledge that his relationship history is a bad one, that his _life_ , and his personality are bad ones, and the crushing terror he feels at the possibility of inflicting all of that on Dirk, of not being able to give Dirk even a fraction less than the absolute perfection he deserves, sets his stomach rolling nauseatingly.

He takes a breath and grips the wheel with white knuckles. ‘Dirk, I… I have to tell you, I’m… not good at this, okay? I’m not good at being somebody’s boyfriend, or being…’

 _Or being loved_ , he thinks, but he doesn’t say it. When he works up the courage to meet his eyes, Dirk is looking at him with so much love, so much care and adoration in his face that it pulls all the breath from his lungs.

‘You’re good at being you,’ Dirk tells him simply. ‘And that’s all I want.’

Todd feels the breath hitch in his throat, feels his heart close to bursting, and he is suddenly so overwhelmed that he can’t do a thing but pull over at the side of the road so he can kiss the sweetness from his lips, taste the stars that dance on his tongue, so he can feel the soft, daring, shining, beautiful thing that is _Dirk_ held close against him, and know that he is the luckiest man in the world.

They are both breathless when they pull away, Todd’s hand resting against the smooth skin of Dirk’s face, his pulse jumping out of his skin, and Dirk brushes his thumb gently across his cheek, eyes crinkled at the corners, smiling like everything is right with the world.

‘Let’s go home,’ he says softly, and Todd finds that he wants nothing more.


End file.
